


I've Never Felt Young (But For You I'll Try)

by eden22



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bakery, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Disabled Character, Everyone is Queer, Families of Choice, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers is a little punk, Swearing, Tattoo Artist Steve, Tattoos, Trans Female Character, abuse of other languages, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eden22/pseuds/eden22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has been working at Clint’s bakery ever since he left the military. He’s happy with his life, and adjusting to his missing arm. But when tiny, argumentative Steve Rogers walks into the bakery one day, his life will never be the same...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Updates will be coming about once a week.~~  
>  Beta'd by the amazing [slidingkinsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slidingkinsey) who puts up with all of my shit, even if she does laugh at me a lot.
> 
> To see translations, please hover over the text.

Bucky groaned and rolled over as the sound of his alarm blaring dragged him out of the silent peace of sleep and back into reality and his dark bedroom. He blearily peered at the red numbers glowing at him from his bedside table, even though logically, he already knew what they would tell him. Sure enough 1:00 was staring at him out of the darkness, and he groaned again, slapping his hand out to silence the beeping that was still ringing out from the stupid fucking thing. He had really thought that when he'd been discharged he'd be done with predawn wake up calls, but no. He lay there in the blessed silence, trying to convince himself to get up before finally giving in, throwing off his blankets. 

Stumbling naked from his bed, he wandered into his shower, washing quickly, still more than a little bit half asleep. By the time he’d finished up in the bathroom though, the coffee machine in the kitchen had beeped its readiness, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was filling his small flat. Pulling on a ratty tee-shirt and torn jeans, he headed into the kitchen, pouring and inhaling a cup of coffee as he leaned against the counter. Finally beginning to feel a little bit awake, he savoured his second cup a bit more, lighting a cigarette and cracking a window. He would eat breakfast when he got into work, when he could steal a fresh bun from the oven and Clint could pretend to be annoyed with him, but for now, he was satisfied to stand and sip at his coffee. Putting his mug in the sink, he glanced out the window and cursed when all he saw was a swirl of white. Checking the time, he was relieved to find he was still a bit early, and after bundling up he headed outside and began the arduous task of shovelling out his car one-handed. He didn’t know why Clint had decided to open up a bakery in the city instead of their hometown of Newark. To be fair, Clint had been handing him real estate listings for flats in the city within his budget ever since he’d started work, but… well, Bucky didn’t really have a good reason behind his refusal to move to the city, besides the fact that it just felt like too much work. Besides, his flat in Ironbound might be a piece of shit, but he loved the neighborhood filled with working class people; he felt more at home in this small slice of the East Ward that he’d grown up in than he could ever imagine feeling in the city. And anyways, he knew for a fact that Clint missed the neighborhood, so there. 

Finally finishing shovelling out his car, Bucky got it started and heating up before running across the street to Seabra Foods to pick up a copy of Luso-Americano and 24horas Portuguese Daily Newspaper, to read on his breaks. Pushing open the door, he called out a greeting to the young man manning the counter - the grandson of old Mrs. Almedia who’d ran the store when he was a kid. She was still kicking around, and could often be found sitting out front by the fruit stand, gossiping with passerbys. He went to the beer cooler, grabbing a case of beer for the pão de cerveja he was planning on making later. This early in the morning (late at night) it was just him and Cristóvão and he chatted easily with the young man in Portuguese as Cristóvão retrieved the copies of the paper that he kept from the previous day for Bucky. His Portuguese had gotten very rusty while he’d been gone, but he was pleased to find that the longer he spent back in his old neighborhood, the more it came rushing back to him. 

The neighborhood was largely Portuguese, and while the white Barnes family had stuck out like sore thumbs when they had immigrated there in the 60s, they’d stuck around, and integrated into the community well enough that by the time Bucky came along, his godparents were a set of third-generation Portuguese immigrants named Frederico and María De Araujo. The De Araujo’s had become Bucky’s parents when he was eleven, and his father died in an accident on base at Camp Lehigh. His mother had died when his sister, Rebecca was only two, and the De Araugo’s and Becca were now Bucky’s only family. María had cried when Bucky came up to her and Frederico on his eighteenth birthday and told them he was enlisting, but he knew it was the right thing to do. 

In hindsight, he kind of really wished he hadn’t. 

Hurrying back across the road, he hopped into his now slightly-warm car, skidding slightly as he turned out onto the road and heading out towards the highway. His drive usually took about 30-40 min depending on how reckless he was feeling, but with the snow he thought he was going to be more like 50-60 min. Glancing at the radio, he saw it was just past 2am and cursed. Well, he’d be late or he wouldn’t be. Wasn’t much he could do about it at this point (wasn’t like Clint would really care either). Reaching out he quickly flicked the power button on the radio, cursing when all that came out was static. He let go of the wheel, steering with his knees for a moment while he violently hit at the dashboard with his hand until he smacked the sweet spot, realigning whatever was fucked up in the stereo system and filling the car with music. Smiling slightly, he returned the whole of his attention to the road and the long commute ahead of him. 

\----------

He finally pulled in at the back of Hawkeye Bakery in Red Hook, throwing his car into park and climbing out, grumbling to himself as he grabbed the case of beer, putting it on the hood while he fumbled for his keys. He fucking hated New York drivers. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with them, but he was completely convinced that there was _something_ wrong with the whole lot of them. He jimmied his key in the lock for a couple minutes before finally hearing the click of the lock engaging, flicking his cigarette butt into the can by the back door as he headed in. The only good thing about owning such a piece of shit car, he thought to himself, was that no one was going to steal it, even in this stupid, shitty neighbourhood (the bakery sat on the outside edge of Red Hook, and on his better days Bucky could admit that it wasn’t a bad area, and that the people were friendly and warm. 

Today wasn’t one of those days). 

“Well good morning sunshine!” Clint called out from his spot by the massive counter that took up a large part of the backroom, where he was cutting up dough, laughing at Bucky’s muttered ‘babaca’ as he stomped past his friend, setting the case of beer down on his workspace before continuing through to the office to shuck his coat and hat and change his shoes. Grabbing an apron he headed back out into the bakery, stopping by Clint and handing the other man a hair tie, standing still as his friend deftly tied up his hair into a bun. He could do it on his own, but when Clint did it, it actually stayed up all day and didn’t fall out after an hour, and convenience outweighed his pride in this case. Pouring himself another cup of coffee from the bakers’ collective pot he headed over to his station to start mixing up the dough for the pão de cerveja (Clint actually bought really good coffee for his employees, and Bucky took shameless advantage of it – Natasha often joked that he had a caffeine tolerance equal to her alcohol tolerance). Speaking of whom… Bucky glanced around the room before looking at Clint, who was humming and shaking his butt in time with the Taylor Swift he had blasting on the radio. 

“Where the fuck is everyone?” Clint looked up at his friend.

“Hmmm? Oh, Nat’ll be down soon, Banner called and said he was running late, and Stark’s coming in at seven today.” Bucky nodded. Natasha, Bucky’s best friend, had a long standing on-again-off-again thing with Clint that he tried very hard not to get involved with (but often ended up in the middle of anyways, to his annoyance). She was currently living with Clint in the tiny flat above the bakery, but just as often lived in Bucky’s spare room, depending on her mood and whether or not Clint had done anything particularly stupid lately. He had met Natasha at basic training when he tried to stop another soldier from harassing her, only to watch as she flipped him onto his back and punched him in the throat. They’d been friends ever since, and Bucky had introduced her to Clint when they’d been back in the city on leave several years before they’d both left the Rangers for good (her by choice, him… not so much). She’d joined him at the bakery when Clint offered him a job (he still wasn’t sure if Clint had actually offered her a job as well, or if she’d just showed up and started baking until Clint paid her). The rest of the staff included Bruce Banner, a small, unassuming man who’d been hired by Clint after he got out of prison (though he didn’t look like much, the man had _serious_ anger management issues, but Clint was a firm believer in second chances which definitely explained most of his staff). Toni Stark was the bakery’s pastry chef, and their resident insane genius. The woman could do some amazing things with a bit of cream and pastry, but also some terrible, terrible things (Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from the jalapeno cream horn incident). 

“Is it still snowing?” Clint asked as he deftly shaped dough into pretzels. Bucky hummed an affirmative before looking up at the other man in concern.

“Do you think Parker will be able to get in alright?” Peter Parker, a derpy little twerp of a kid, worked the front end of the bakery 3-7 every day to help pay for his tuition for… well, whatever he was studying (Bucky tended to zone out whenever the teenager started talking about his school). Darcy, who worked the front 7-3, lived just up the street and was never deterred by weather, but Parker biked over from his Aunt’s in Forest Hills. Clint shrugged.

“I don’t know. If he can’t, I’ll just cover, shouldn’t be a problem.” Bucky nodded, setting aside the dough for the pão de cerveja to rise while he pulled the dough for his pão trançado that he’d made the day before out of the proofer, beginning to braid it up into a fancy loaf. His avó had taught him how to make the traditional Portuguese sweet bread, which she always made for Easter and called massa, and some of his best memories from the horrible months following the death of his last remaining parent were made in his avó’s kitchen, learning how to bake. He loved doing this, and though it had taken him a while to master doing it one-handed, he could feel the calm of his memories and the ritual settle into his bones. He would have never thought that this would end up his life post-military, but here he was. There were rarely any surprises in the world of baking (save unexpected jalapenos in cream horns, he was seriously never forgiving Stark for that). 

Learning to do things one-handed had been one of the most challenging parts of his return to civilian life (the PTSD was a whole other mess) but unlike the PTSD (which he had Natasha to help him through) he was on his own for learning how to exist without his left arm. He had a prosthetic arm, sitting in his closet and gathering dust; his doctor, therapist, and prosthetist had spent a long time trying to get him comfortable with the arm, but even they had to admit that with a full-limb amputation such as his, there wouldn’t be much mobility possible even in the best case scenario. Ultimately, he had decided that it was easier to just learn to do things with one hand. In the end, it turned out losing a limb was something he was handling a lot better than the PTSD (Natasha would deny it until the day she died, but he was pretty sure the reason that she still stayed with him sometimes had at least something to do with her wanting to be there when he woke up screaming). 

\----------

The two men worked in silence, aside from when Clint occasionally burst into song (which Bucky was very much used to after two years of working for the man) until Natasha suddenly appeared next to him, making Bucky jump. 

“Jesus Natasha, make some fucking noise.”

“Nice braid,” she commented, ignoring Bucky. 

“Seriously,” he grumbled as she wandered over to kiss Clint on the cheek, “I’m gonna put a fucking bell on you, I swear to God.” She continued to ignore Bucky (fair: he’d been threatening to put a bell on her since they’d met) and instead took up her station by Clint, beginning to throw together ingredients for the pirozhki that were her specialty. The shop sold a somewhat eclectic mix of baked goods which were largely inspired by the various baker’s backgrounds, with Clint bringing the French and German recipes he’d learned in the four years he’d lived in Europe after high school, Natasha brought her family’s Russian recipes, Bucky his avó’s Portuguese recipes, and Banner more conventional American recipes. The actual stock of the bakery varied greatly day-to-day, as it was made fresh every day (aside from the table of discounted day-olds) and Clint’s relaxed attitude towards anything resembling ‘order’ or a ‘menu’ meant that the bakers generally just made whatever they felt like that day. Banner, who made the donuts, cinnamon buns, muffins, and cookies, was the most reliable of the bunch, generally making the same thing, with the occasional specialty donut or cookie thrown in to shake things up. Customers could always call the day before to make sure the bakery had whatever they wanted, but in overall their customers seemed okay with the variety and spontaneity seen in the bakery’s daily offerings. 

Speak of the devil… the back door dinged as Banner came in, shaking his coat and hat off and stomping his feet. The bakers shouted out their greetings as the man disappeared into the office before reappearing clad in his apron and black toque (it had #swag written across it in large white block letters, and had been a gift from Clint on Banner’s last birthday). The stocky man had a large black tattoo that read ‘Rage & Fury’ in large, stylized letters that covered most of his neck, and more tattoos covered his arms and hands, and Bucky often thought that if he didn’t know Banner, he would be more than a little bit wary of him. In fact, the man was a total sweetheart once you got to know him (aside from the anger issues of course, but they tried not to mention that) and Bucky shot him a warm smile as the man settled into his station across from Bucky. Bruce was the most senior employee at the bakery, aside from Clint, having been the first person he had hired after buying the bakery. The back was soon filled with the warm sounds of Clint and Natasha’s bickering, Banner and Bucky’s quiet conversation, and the aroma of baking bread. 

\----------

Bucky was in the middle of kneading the dough for his papo secos when he noticed his hand had begun to shake, and glanced up at the time, startled to find that it was already 6:30. He walked over to the sink to wash the dough off his hand.

“I’m heading out for a smoke.” Clint wrinkled his nose in disgust as Natasha looked up from where she was covering the dough for her apple vareniki, holding up a finger to indicate she would head out with him before heading over to the sink to wash her hands. Bucky looked over at Banner, but the other man simply shook his head, smiling softly, and Bucky belatedly remembered that Bruce had told him he was trying to quit. Natasha came up behind him, handing him his coat, and he shrugged it on as they headed outside, laughing as Clint’s shouted customary reminder that smoking kills followed them out into the cold. Huddling under the slight overhang to keep out of the snow, Bucky and Natasha stood and smoked in comfortable silence, stomping their feet to keep warm. 

“Caralho,” Bucky breathed, “the winter is almost enough to make me want to quit.” Natasha laughed, nudging his shoulder with her own. 

“Stop bitching you blyad'. Remember when we did our winter survival training in Isachsen? Now that was cold.”

“Canada is a fucking nightmare wasteland,” Bucky grumbled in reply, trying to remember what ‘blyad’’ meant. Natasha loved to insult him in Russian, since she knew he couldn’t remember what the words meant half the time (he tried to retaliate by cussing her out in Portuguese, but she was much better with languages than he was and always knew what he was saying). Natasha had opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when another voice came out of the darkness. 

“Sup bitches?” The loud greeting instantly had Bucky and Natasha turning around, looking out into the parking lot where they made out the figure of Darcy coming towards them, stroller pushing ahead of her through the snow with effort. They stubbed out their cigarettes, Natasha running ahead of Bucky to relieve Darcy, pushing the stroller the last couple of meters to the back entrance. The door chimed as all three entered the back of the shop, Banner and Clint looking up and calling hello to Darcy. “It is coming down like a mo-fo.” Darcy offered as Natasha maneuvered the stroller down the steps, where she was met by Clint, who scooped up the toddler bundled inside. 

“Hey banana!” He said, spinning the girl around as she shrieked in delight. “Hows my favourite trouble maker?” Darcy laughed at her boss as she collapsed the stroller and took it back to the office. She came back in her work shirt and apron, pausing to nudge Banner, and he smiled at the teenager. Darcy had the kind of personality that could draw anyone out of their shell, and Banner was more open with her around than he ever was with anyone else. 

“Hey Darcy,” the older man greeted.

“Heya handsome.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, “Come here often?” He laughed. Katie shrieked again across the room, and Darcy interrupted her flirting to shout at Clint.

“I swear to God Barton if you drop my kid I am going to cut your dick off and shove it up your ass.” Clint just grinned at his employee, sticking his tongue out. 

“You know, that kid is going to have the dirtiest vocabulary by the time she hits two years old.” Bucky commented, returning to his station after putting his and Natasha’s coats back in the office. 

“Psh,” Darcy replied, waving a hand airily above her head, “Nonsense. She’s only said the f-word twice.” Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Wow. Yeah. Amazing. Such good parenting.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Darcy replied, laughing and shoving at Bucky’s shoulder. “I am a goddamn amazing mother and you know it.”

“False. I know no such thing.” The effect of his words were ruined by the fond smile on his face as he watched Darcy walk over and rescue her daughter from Clint’s grasp, plunking her down in the playpen that lived by the office. 

“Alright sweetie,” she said, leaning down and pecking her daughter on the cheek, “you be good for your uncles and Auntie Natasha okay?” Straightening, she looked back at Clint, “I’m gonna go set up up front.” Clint waved her off and she headed up front. Bucky liked Darcy (he liked pretty much anyone who was that much of a smartass). She had started working at the bakery around the same time as Bucky, so he had been around for the whole drama with her ex (useless fuckwit who was currently serving the first of seven years for armed robbery) and Katie’s birth (he wasn’t going to lie, he had cried when Darcy had asked him to be Katie’s godfather, saying that he was the most level-headed adult she knew, which… wasn’t much of a recommendation, but still). She had later confessed that she had originally planned on naming her best friend Jane and her fiancé Thor the godparents, but in her drugged up, post birth haze had decided that Thor was way too big and scary to be a godparent, and that she was worried Jane might forget that Katie existed. Bucky couldn’t say he blamed her – Thor was _huge_ even if he was also one of the chillest, friendliest guys that Bucky had ever met, and Jane, while brilliant, was incredibly scatterbrained (Bucky had once watched her stir salt into her coffee instead of sugar, taste it, dump it, and then do the exact same thing with her fresh cup). 

The massive falling out with her parents that had occurred nearly three years ago when fifteen-year-old Darcy stubbornly announced that she was keeping the baby had resulted in her moving into Jane and Thor’s place. Darcy had met Jane at a science camp Jane had been facilitating and Darcy had been reluctantly attending several years earlier, and despite the difference in their ages had become friends (Darcy loftily insisted it was due to her astounding maturity for her age, Toni claimed it was because Jane was an emotionally stunted scientist). Thor’s family had been amongst the first Norwegian-Americans to settle in Carroll Gardens in the mid-19th century – and his brownstone with its gorgeous huge front garden had been in his family since that time. Jane had been happy to welcome her younger friend into her home, even with a baby, but was too busy with her studies (she was currently earning her doctorate in astrophysics, making her another person that Bucky just didn’t really understand when she started talking about school) to babysit, meaning that Katie often ended up accompanying Darcy to work when she couldn’t find, or afford, a sitter. The bakers collectively doted upon the toddler however, and after the first time that Darcy had turned up, frazzled and on the edge of tears, explaining to Clint that her sitter had cancelled on her last minute, Clint had gone out and bought a playpen, as well as a whole fuckload of toys, carefully marking out a safe zone around the pen in red tape to make sure that nothing hot ever went near the baby (if Darcy had actually cried when she came in the next day and saw the new addition to the bakery, well, none of them were going to mention it). So if Bucky had an extra soft spot for the single mother who was so goddamn smart and resourceful and refused to be pushed down by life, well, no one blamed him. 

With Katie happily burbling in the background, the bakers returned to their tasks, Banner rolling the first rack of finished baking to the front for Darcy to set out. Happily, she had a great memory and knew what everything was as long as it had been made at least once before, and so she was in charge of writing up the signs for the day. Just as Banner was returning with the empty rack, the back door chimed as the final member of staff arrived for the day. 

“Good morning, beloved peons!” Toni shouted from the top of the stairs, striking an exaggerated pose. The girl had enough of a personality for ten people and was, in Bucky’s opinion, more than a little bit of an asshole, but he couldn’t help but like her despite that. He was pretty sure Toni had just annoyed him until he couldn’t help but like her. He was also pretty sure that was how Toni made all of her friends, but hey, if it worked for her… “Clint, baby!” Toni cried, running down the stairs and coming to a halt in front of his employers, “Sweetheart, honey, doll.”

“Jesus, Toni, what?” Clint replied, rolling his eyes, no doubt in his mind that the younger woman wanted something from him that he wasn’t going to want to give her. 

“I _need_ a new mixer.” She whined, and Bucky was amazed that a grown-ass woman could manage to look more petulant than Katie at her most pouty. 

“No.” Clint said mildly but firmer, and Toni’s pout became even more exaggerated. He rolled his eyes again, “the one you have is fine Toni, Jesus, just because you saw a shiny new one in some catalogue.” Toni just pouted more and after several moments of her staring, pouting, and Clint looking more and more helpless the older man finally sighed in defeat. “I’ll look into it.” Toni immediately grinned, jumping up, and Clint pointed a stern finger at her. “No promises!” 

“Yeah sure thing boss man.” Toni chirped in reply, hopping onto her tiptoes to press a smacking kiss to Clint’s cheek. “Anyways!” she exclaimed, abruptly turning away from Clint. “I have an _excellent_ idea for a new pastry so I must away! The genius has work to do!” She stalked over to her work station, shoving her coat under her desk.

“That girl has you wrapped around her finger.” Natasha commented mildly. 

“Hey!” Clint replied, affronted, “I am in charge around here.” Bucky snorted out a laugh.

“Yeah, sure, you keep telling yourself that.” 

“Seu cabrão!” Clint exclaimed, pointing dramatically at Bucky, who stuck out his tongue at his friend. 

“Cadela,” he replied fondly, and Clint threw his hands up, returning to his work. 

Bucky glanced back at Toni to see if she’d been paying any attention to that whole exchange, but shook his head as he saw that she was staring intently at a collection of scrap paper, pushing them around and reordering them. It was a good thing the eccentric girl had never given any sign of wanting to leave the bakery, because no one else would ever be able to figure out her recipes, half of which were written in code, and half of which he was pretty sure weren’t written out anywhere but simply existed in Toni’s head. The week that Toni had been out after being jumped by some assholes on her way home had been one of the worst in Bucky’s time at the bakery, both because everyone was so occupied with worry over their friend, and because Clint had decided to put Bucky to the task of making pastries for the week which had been… awful. The less said about it, the better, really.

Toni had been the second person Clint had hired after Banner, just as business was beginning to pick up and Clint had realized that he should really probably get a proper pastry chef. Toni didn’t actually have any formal training, and had never made pastries professionally before, but somehow managed to bully her way into an interview anyways, and it had only taken Clint trying one of Toni’s rum balls and she was hired (Bucky fully supported that decision, Toni’s rum balls were fucking _amazing_ even if she kept up a contrast stream of dirty jokes every time she made them, or saw someone eating one). 

Toni fit in well with the whole island-of-misfit-toys thing Clint had going on with everyone he hired. The daughter of a weapons manufacture and billionaire, Toni had been disowned and kicked out when she revealed to her parents at sixteen that she had never actually been the son they thought, thank you very much, and had spent a rough couple of years living on the streets, in and out of juvie and rehab before meeting her ‘platonic life partner’, Lt. Col. James Rhodes when he was volunteering at a shelter. He had helped Toni get clean and into a halfway house, which was where she had learned to make pastries as a coping method to get herself through withdrawal. Toni had what Bucky’s ex-therapist would probably call an addictive personality, and her fixation with pastries probably wasn’t healthy, but Bucky couldn’t help but think it was a good sight better than the drugs she’d been on previously, and he just couldn’t bring himself to worry too much about it. 

With the entire staff now in the Bakery, they fell quickly into their usual easy banter, interrupted only by Darcy coming back to grab racks of bread as they were finished, as well as the occasional faint chime of the front door, though it was chiming a lot less than it would usually, probably because of the snow, Bucky thought distantly to himself. At 8:30 Darcy appeared in the back, brow furrowed in concern as she approached Clint, who was folding dough for his famous croissants (they were seriously amazing - Bucky may or may not be slightly in love with them). 

“Yo Clint.” 

“Hmmmm?” The man asked, looking up from his work. “Whats up?” 

“Loki still hasn’t shown up to shovel.” Clint frowned. Loki, Thor’s kid brother, usually came by before school if it had been snowing to shovel. He was a little shit, but Thor had asked Clint as a favour, and Clint was a sucker for anyone with a sad face (and Thor, for such a big guy, did excellent puppy eyes). Thor had probably been hoping that getting his younger brother would keep him out of trouble. It hadn’t really worked though, and Clint groaned in annoyance. 

“I swear to fucking God. I am firing that little filho da puta.” Natasha looked up from the makovnyk she was mixing and grinned. 

“Guess you’ll have to shovel then Clint.” Clint practically growled at her. 

“God fucking damn it.” He finally ground out, stomping back to grab his coat and the shovel leaning by the back door before heading outside. 

\----------

The rest of the morning passed by without event, and Bucky was startled when he looked up at the clock to find it was already eleven. Banner was just finishing up cleaning his work station, and Bucky began to do the same. Natasha had just come back from the front, where she’d been visiting with Darcy (she always finished early, but usually chose to hang around until everyone else was done as well rather than just head back upstairs). 

“I’m going,” Natasha told Clint as she came into the back. Clint looked up at her, startled, from where he was double checking the order forms in his hand against the palettes of bread Bruce had prepped for delivery.

“Going? Where?” he looked around as if the answer was somewhere in the room. Natasha rolled her eyes at him.

“Its Tuesday Clint? I’m going to see my babushka?” Clint’s eyes widened as he remembered. Like Bucky, Natasha’s parents had both died when she was a child, and she had been raised by her grandmother who lived down in Brighton Beach. 

“Oh. Right, um, awesome?” Clint was saved by Toni calling him over, and he happily escaped to the other side of the room. Bucky grabbed the bag of papo secos he’d set aside and headed over to where Natasha was wrapping her scarf more firmly around her neck, smiling as he approached her.

“Say hello to babulya for me, yeah?” he said, handing Natasha the bag of buns. Natasha’s babushka was as tough as the grand-daughter she’d raised, and Bucky had loved the old bird ever since the first time he’d met her, when she’d hit him over the head with a wooden spoon for trying to steal pelmeni from the bowl before dinner. His voice grew more serious as he remembered what Natasha had told him the previous Tuesday. “Is that merda still hassling her?” The Russian mafia had been in control of the area old Mrs. Romanova lived in since _she_ had been a little girl, but ever since Vory Vyacheslav Ivankov was arrested a lot of small-time punks had started to get into their heads that they could have a slice of the pie. This particular fucker had taken to harassing the older folks that lived in Mrs. Romanova’s building for protection money. Natasha’s smile in response to Bucky’s question was wolfish, and he couldn’t help his returning predatory grin. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Banner calling his goodbyes, and they both waved to the man as he headed out the back door. 

Natasha glanced around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation, but Clint was fully occupied with Toni, who was waving her hands around and no doubt explaining whatever insane idea she’d come up with this time, and Katie was sound asleep in her playpen. Turning back to Bucky, Natasha angled her body so her back was fully to Clint before lifting her coat and shirt to reveal the handle of her Tokarev sticking out of the waistband of her jeans. Bucky raised his eyebrows as she lowered her clothing, again hiding the pistol. 

“Seriously?” He asked quietly, and Natasha nodded her head, expression grim. 

“The blyat' isn’t listening to reason, and the new Vory didn’t seem to give a fuck when I told him some punk was trying to edge in on his territory.” Bucky nodded. 

“Do you need backup?” He asked, swallowing hard. But Natasha just shook her head, a smile curving her lips. 

“Nah Buck,” she threw an arm around her shoulder, pressing her forehead against his, “I’ve got this.” She let go, backing up and heading toward the door.

“Call me!” Bucky called out after her, and she waved her hand at him as she headed out the door. He returned to his station, wanting to finish up his cleaning so he could finally head home. He hadn’t gotten very far before Clint was headed towards him, hanging up the phone and cursing as he came up to Bucky. 

“What’s up?” Bucky asked, looking at his friend. 

“Its Parker. He’s not going to be in today,” Clint’s eyebrows scrunched up, “he got into a fight at school. That was his aunt. They’re at the ER, apparently there’s at least a four hour wait to see a doctor, but she’s pretty sure he’s broken at least a couple of his fingers and his nose.” He looked at Bucky, an apology in his eyes. “I really hate to ask this man, but could you cover his shift? Darce is leaving early to take banana to the doctor and I was going to cover it, but I’ve haven’t had time to do my deliveries because I’ve had to shovel fucking snow every hour and this one delivery needs to be done before one, and-” Bucky held up his hand, silencing his friend. 

“I’ve got it dude. Don’t worry about it.” Clint’s relief was palpable.

“Thank you so much man, you are saving my life. I was gonna ask Nat, but I totally forgot today was Tuesday, and, well, I’m pretty sure if I left Toni in charge the entire place would be nothing more than a smouldering pile of ash by the time I got back.” Bucky laughed, clapping his friend on the arm before looking him seriously in the eyes. 

“Good choice.” Bucky headed into the office, shucking his bakers apron for one of the black aprons the front staff wore. Walking out into the front, he was greeted by Darcy’s grin. 

“So Clint roped you into covering for me eh?” She asked. Bucky returned her smile. 

“Unfortunately. He’s just so sad and pathetic looking, I can’t help but feel bad for him.” Darcy laughed, nodding her head. 

“Right? Like a wet cat.” Bucky snapped his fingers, pointing at her.

“Thats it! Exactly!” Darcy laughed again, before untying her apron. 

“Well I’m off then.”

“Why are you taking Katie to the doctor?” Bucky asked, concern coloring his voice, “Is she sick?” But Darcy shook her head. 

“Nah, just a standard check-up! Nothing to worry about.” She stood on her tiptoes, giving Bucky a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the back. 

“See you tomorrow Buck!”

“Later Darce.” 

\----------

Bucky idly flipped through the pages of Luso-Americano. He’d already read it, and the 24horas, but he’d done all of the cleaning there was to do, there hadn’t been any new customers in at least half an hour, and he was bored as fuck. He glanced up at the clock above the counter, sighing when he saw it was only two. Toni had stuck her head in about an hour previous, saying her goodbyes for the day (she basically set her own hours, and tended to just wander in and out whenever she felt like it) so it was just him in the shop, slowly dying of boredom. He hated working front, both because of the long periods of boredom on slow days like today, and because he generally hated interacting with other people. They tended to stare at where his left sleeve hung empty. It was annoying as shit. 

The door chimed and Bucky looked up from the page he’d been staring at without reading, raising an eyebrow as he got a look at the kid who’d come in. He was a tiny guy, maybe 5’4”, and couldn’t weigh more than 90 pounds soaking wet. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over. Stomping his boots on the mat by the entry, the kid pulled off his hat, revealing a shock of bright blue hair, which, Bucky saw as he looked up, matched the kid’s eyes perfectly. The kid looked surprised to see Bucky as he came over to the counter, looking around as if searching for someone else. Finally his gaze settled on Bucky, and Bucky was surprised to see that the kid’s face looked a lot older than Bucky had assumed from his size. 

“You’re not Darcy.” The kid said, and his voice was another surprise, deep and rich. Bucky quirked an eyebrow as he looked down at the kid. 

“No, I’m not.” The kid huffed over Bucky’s flip answer. Now that the kid was closer, Bucky could see the studs in his ears, as well as the two on the corner of his mouth and the ring through his septum. He could also see the edges of a tattoo peeking over the collar of the kid’s coat. Kid was a tiny punk, he thought to himself with some surprise. 

“No, I mean, she’s usually here when I come in. Is she okay?” Bucky smiled, softening at the obvious concern in the kid’s voice. 

“Yeah she’s fine. Just had to leave early today.” 

“Oh yeah,” the kid replied, snapping his fingers as he remembered, “she mentioned she’d be leaving early today. Taking Katie to the doctor right.” Bucky raised an eyebrow again. Clearly this kid was a regular if Darcy had told him about Katie. There was a long moment of silence before the kid startled, before offering a hand, a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

“Sorry, how rude of me. Steve Rogers.” Bucky reached his hand across the counter. The kid’s hand was freezing, but his grip was strong. 

“Bucky Barnes.” 

“Bucky?” The ki-Steve asked, amusement clear in his voice. 

“Well, James Buchanan Barnes if you’re my mãe and I’m in trouble, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you Bucky.” Another long pause and Bucky rocked back on his heels, feeling awkward as Steve looked him over, though he noticed the kid didn’t linger on the space where his arm should be more than he did on any other part of Bucky. 

“So Steve, what can I get you?” Steve startled again, and Bucky had to bite back a smile. Jumpy little fella. 

“Oh, right, um, can I get a half a dozen of the veggie pirozhki, two of the cinnamon apple ones…” Steve trailed off, wandering over to look at the bread as Bucky grabbed a bag and, setting it on the shelf, began to place the buns in the bag. Steve looked up when Bucky put the full bag on the counter in front of him, shooting the kid an expectant look and having to bite down on a smile when he blushed again. He was really too fucking cute. 

“Um, could I get one of the makivnyk? And a dozen of the papo secos and two loaves of the pão trançado.” Steve’s tongue tripped slightly over the unfamiliar words, but Bucky had to say he was pretty impressed with the kid’s pronunciation. Grabbing the rest of the kid’s order, he carried it all over to the cash, watching as the kid fidgeted and bit at his lip. 

“The pão trançado is my favourite.” He finally blurted out, and when Bucky looked up with a curious expression he blushed again. “Um, I mean…” Bucky decided to take pity on the kid and interrupted his stammering. 

“Mine too.” He said with a wink, but that just seemed to make the kid blush harder. “I actually make it.” Steve’s eyes widened.

“Seriously?” Bucky nodded, “Its so good! I made my roommate, Sam, try it because I kept telling him about how good it was but he didn’t believe me, and now I have to buy two loaves every week or he’ll just eat all of mine.” 

“Family recipe.” Bucky confided, grinning. 

“That’s so cool!” Steve smiled in return. 

“A lot of the stuff here is.” Steve looked surprised.

“Really? Darcy never said…” Bucky laughed. 

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t really care. She kind of just rolls her eyes whenever we try to tell her the history of the recipes. Says she doesn’t care about our old people stories.” Steve laughed.

“Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“The makivnyk and pirozhki are made by Natasha, they’re her babushka’s recipe. And the papo secos are mine as well. They’re my avó’s recipe.”

“But aren’t those Portuguese?” Bucky watched with delight as another blush rushed up Steve’s face, “I mean, not that you, not that I think, I mean, I wouldn’t want to assume-” Bucky laughed, waving him off. 

“I’m not Portuguese, don’t worry. But the people who raised me are.” Steve sagged in relief. 

“Sorry,” he said, voice wry, “I tend to put my foot in my mouth a lot, so…” he trailed off and he and Bucky just stood there smiling at each other for a long moment before Bucky suddenly realized that he probably looked like an asshole, just smiling at this kid for no reason, and he quickly looked back down at the till. 

“That’s 35.60.” He read off, and Steve pulled out his wallet, handing over a worn debit card. Bucky caught sight of the letters ‘B’ ‘R’ ‘O’ ‘O’ tattooed across the knuckles on his right hand, and, based on Steve’s accent, could guess that the other hand would finish the word off with ‘K’ ‘L’ ‘Y’ ‘N’. Local boy then, and one loyal enough to his neighbourhood to get the name of his home tattooed across his knuckles. Bucky packed all of Steve’s purchases into a bag while the other man frowned down at the debit machine, sticking the receipt in the bag after it printed. He hovered awkwardly for a moment after grabbing the bag, before shoving his hat back on.

“I’ll see you around Bucky,” he said with a smile, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile back. 

“See you around Stevie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just started working at a bakery, and the early morning starts are killing me, so I figured hey, why not write a massive Steve/Bucky AU to make myself feel better?
> 
> Come hang out with me! [Tumblr](http://www.stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com)
> 
> Russian  
> blyad - whore  
> babushka - grandmother  
> babulya - granny  
> blyat' - fuck
> 
> Portuguese  
> mãe - mother  
> avó - grandmother  
> babaca - douchebag  
> caralho - fuck  
> merda - shit  
> seu cabrão - you fuck  
> cadela - bitch  
> filho da puta - son of a bitch
> 
> Food  
> pão de cerveja - beer bread  
> pão trançado (massa) - braided bread  
> papo secos - bread rolls  
> pirozhki - stuffed buns  
> apple vareniki - dumplings  
> makovnyk - poppy seed roll  
> pelmeni - dumplings


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [slidingkinsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slidingkinsey) is the best, most understanding beta. I may have written over 40k in a month (what) but she edited it all!!
> 
>  
> 
> To see translations, please hover over the text.

“Hey Buck.” Clint poked his head out of the back at 3, and Bucky looked over at him from where he had been wiping the same spot on the counter for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“You all done?” he asked hopefully.

“You bet.” He wandered over to stand beside Bucky. “You can head out. Thanks again for staying. And for making sure Toni didn’t burn the place down or sell it out from under me or something.” Bucky grinned in relief, pulling at the ties of his apron and throwing it at Clint’s head.

“Later loser!” He tossed out, before grabbing his papers and heading into the back, Clint’s shout of ‘asshole’ following him into the office. He threw the papers in the recycling bin in the office before pulling on his coat. Tapping out a smoke from the crumpled pack and putting it between his lips, he headed back through the bakery and out the back door. He was happy to see the plow had been around the back, and it had finally stopped snowing, so leaving wasn’t going to be a whole big _thing_. Opening his car, he started it after a couple tries, and grabbed the scrapper from the floor. Ice scrapped, snow swept, and engine at least kind of warmed up, he was finally ready to go, and backed out into the street, swearing as the car slid before the tires caught on the slippery road. 

He fucking hated winter.

\----------

Bucky was sitting on his couch in his boxers and tee-shirt, absentmindedly picking at the remains of the arroz de frango he’d picked up from Iberia on his way home. His mãe would be so disappointed in him for buying it from a restaurant and not making his own, but he had been exhausted by the time he’d gotten into town, shucking his jeans as soon as he’d stepped through the door and barely moving since from where he’d thrown himself on the couch. He was half-watching an old episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (what? Buffy was a badass. And hot.) and debating getting another beer (four seemed like a okay number for an evening on his couch, but five might be pushing it towards ‘bad life choice’ territory) when he heard a key in the lock, followed by the unmistakable squeal of his front door opening on its rusty hinges. Craning his head over the back of the couch he caught a glimpse of red hair, and slouched back down. 

“Hey Natasha.” he called out, hearing her setting down her stuff and moving into the kitchen where she banged around for a couple of minutes. 

“Hey.” She called out from the other room, “You ever going to fix that fucking door? It sounds like someone’s stepping on a cat every time I open the fucking thing.” Bucky ignored the familiar complaint. He liked the noise, it firmly announced when someone came in (you could even hear it over the shower). His ex-therapist had said it was another symptom of his post-war paranoia, and he should confront why exactly he felt like he might be attacked in his home (but there was a reason she was his ex-therapist and the rusty hinges stayed). 

Natasha finally reappeared in the living room carrying two beers, and, well, Bucky guessed that settled that particular debate. Handing him a beer and settling onto the couch next to him she picked up the takeout box he’d set down to take the beer. 

“Good show.” He hummed noncommittally in response, taking a drink from his beer. They sat in silence for several minutes as they both drank their beer, and Nat ate what was left of Bucky’s takeout. 

“So how’d it go?” he asked without looking away from the television. She wasn’t washing blood from her clothes, so that was probably a good sign. Or at least a good sign for the poor fucker that had been harassing Natasha Romanova’s bubulya. 

“Little suka wasn’t around. I looked around for a bit but.” she shrugged expansively. Bucky grunted. 

“And how’s babulya?” he could see Nat smile out of the corner of his eye at his question. She thought it was adorable that Bucky used the less formal babulya when talking about her babushka (Yekaterina Mariya Romanova was less amused by it, and was constantly telling Bucky he needed to learn respect for his elders, less she take to beating it into him with a wooden spoon. He adored the old lady, he really did). 

“Just as old and angry as ever. She said thanks for the papo secos. She sent me back with a bunch of shie and borcsh for you. Said she’s sure you aren’t eating properly.” Bucky snorted. 

“Thats because babulya won’t be satisfied until you and I, we’re both fat.” Bucky paused. “Is that why you’re here? To drop off food for me?” he glanced at his phone, seeing it was already 19:00 and officially past his bedtime. Natasha didn’t respond, and he looked over at her to see her making an annoyed face. “Clint?” he guessed. 

“Mmmm yeah apparently he went to get something out of the safe while I was gone and saw the Tokarev was gone. Threw a fit when I got back in. ‘Gonna get killed, gonna kill someone else, yadayadayada’.” She waved her hand in the air, and Bucky snorted.

“He has a point.” he noted, tilting his beer towards Natasha as he raised an eyebrow. She just rolled her eyes in response. 

“What _ever_. Like he has a leg to stand on. Remember the whole tracksuit mafia thing? Well,” she amended, “you were in Somalia, but I was here, and I am telling you, it was a fucking shitshow.”

“Don’t think he’s ever taken a gun out to intimidate a punk harassing his grandmother.” Bucky said mildly, but Natasha turned her full glare on him anyways. 

“He totally would if he had a grandmother.” Bucky thought about it for a moment, before nodding. 

“Okay, he probably isn’t in the best position to be judging. But you could probably figure out another way to get this babaca to leave babulya alone without bringing the Tokarev into it.”

“Watch it Barnes,” she snapped, glare morphing into a wicked smile as she paused, “never forget, I know all your dirtiest secrets. All of your shitty decisions. Like when we were on leave in Kabul and you-” 

“Okay okay!” Buck interrupted hastily, not wanting to hear yet another rehash of what he privately referred to as ‘The Worst Thing I’ve Ever Done’. Shaking his head in defeat as he drained his beer. “Your room is how you left it.” He told her, standing. “I’m gonna go to bed. See you in the morning.” Natasha laughed, waving him off without looking away from the tv, where Willow and Buffy were currently having a very heartfelt discussion, and Bucky fell asleep to the sounds of fictional teenagers saving the world over and over again. 

\----------

By the end of the week, Bucky was completely done with his friends. Clint had been pissy all week, and Natasha was still staying at his, none of which he particularly cared about, since he knew they’d make up eventually (they always did) but was seriously putting a damper on his days. They’d been together almost five years, but they fought like one of those couples who’ve been married for sixty years and really should have gotten a divorce somewhere along the line, but never did. Natasha would be her usual stoic self while Clint would yell and sulk, which only made him sulk harder, and had him in turn snapping at all of his employees, which in turn made all of them grumpy (after bitching at Darcy for not mopping properly, she had told him he could take his attitude and shove it up his ass, and then had glared at everyone who talked to her for the rest of the day). Even Toni had taken notice, and Darcy had once literally dropped an entire tray of mugs behind her once and she hadn’t even twitched. All in all, by the time Saturday rolled around, Bucky was completely done with everyone and everything, and was well and truly ready for his weekend to start. So, of course, he was woken up at 2am by the shrill of his phone. Fumbling it off the bedside, he didn’t so much answer it as he mumbled some sounds into it. 

“Hey Buck,” Natasha’s voice was unmistakable on the other end, and Bucky growled into the phone. 

“It is my fucking day off and I am sleeping Natasha. This better be good, puta.”

“Funny story…” Natasha started, and Bucky sat up, squeezing his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he rubbed his eyes. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be good. 

“Where are you?” he asked with a sigh. Nat hadn’t been in by the time Bucky had fallen into bed, but that didn’t mean anything. He had been really, really hoping it meant she and Clint had fucked and made up already, please Deus. But it sounded like once again his prayers had gone unanswered and he ran a hand over his mouth as he waited for Natasha to answer his question. The hesitation was a really, _really_ bad sign. 

“The 78th,” she finally replied, voice full of false cheer, the way she always sounded when she knew whatever she was saying was going to piss Bucky the fuck off (the way she’d sounded when she told him she’d borrowed his last pair of clean socks on a 12 day march out of Charikar). 

“The 78th precinct?!” Bucky clarified, wishing he was more surprised. Wishing he had friends who made better life choices. Wishing he had better friends.

“Yup!” Nat confirmed cheerily. 

“So I guess you caught up with the otário harassing babulya?” At Natasha’s positive response, Bucky sighed again and began to get out of bed. 

“The stupid zhopa was hiding from me in a warehouse along the Gowanus Canal.”

“Awesome.” Bucky replied, voice heavy with sarcasm as he walked over to his dresser. “So happy for you. Charges?” 

“I think they’re angling for assault in the second degree, but I’m betting I’ll be able to get assault in the third.” Bucky set the phone down on the dresser, hitting speaker as he began to pull on clothes. 

“Meaning?”

“If I get third degree I could get a year, but I probably won’t get jail time since its my first offense. I might get probation and a fine.”

“And if its second degree?” Silence. “Nat.” Bucky said, voice filled with warning. 

“Then it’s a felony. Up to seven years.”

“Fuck,” Bucky paused in buttoning up his pants to raise his face to the ceiling, closing his eyes as he scrubbed his hand across his face. “ _Fuck_ Nat.” 

“I know.” she replied, dropping the act, voice small and serious. Bucky tried to shake off the drop in the pit of his stomach, and instead focus on what he could do for her now. 

“They set bail?” he asked, having no idea how this whole thing worked. 

“2k.” 

“So can I come and pay that and get you out?”

“Yeah, please Buck.” He swallowed, but had to ask. 

“Clint?” There was silence from the other end of the line, and Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend. “Don’t worry, I won’t call him.” Natasha’s breath ghosted across the receiver.

“Thank you.” 

“Do you want me to call Pepper?” Pepper Potts, Toni’s girlfriend, was a lawyer, and one of the most scarily competent people Bucky had ever met. 

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay,” Bucky picked up the phone, finished dressing in his favourite jeans, the ones with the knees shredded out, and an old baggy sweater that was pulling apart, “I’m heading out now, be there as soon as I can be.” Natasha hung up without saying anything in reply, and Bucky shook his head. He gave his teeth a quick brush, threw his hair up into a messy pony, and then grabbed his coat. Starting his car, he ran across the road for a cup of coffee to wake himself up for the drive, saying a curt hello to Cristóvão before returning to his car and dialling Pepper, who sounded much more composed about being woken up than he had, and who promised to meet him at the jail (though who knows, knowing Pepper, maybe she was already up and… lawyering). Throwing his phone into the passenger seat, Bucky turned on the radio, which instantly filled the car with the loud buzz of static. He hit it but after several minutes of lots of effort and no reward, he sighed heavily to himself, resting his head on the steering wheel. 

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, sitting up and switching the radio off with a harsh moment before finally heading into the city. 

\----------

When Bucky opened the door of the precinct he was greeted by a largely empty waiting room, save for a pair of tired-looking women talking quietly to each other in the corner. Nodding at the women as he passed, he approached the window and the tired and unimpressed looking man behind the glass. 

“Hey, I’m here to post bail for Natalia Alianovna Romanova?” He glanced down at the man’s name tag, “Officer Martinez .” He looked back up at the man, whose expression hadn’t changed at all, and who made no move to do anything about Bucky’s request. 

“Y’know, if its not too much effort,” he snapped, prompting a raised eyebrow from Officer Martinez but no other moment. Bucky clenched his teeth, but before he could speak again he heard the sound of a throat being cleared behind him, and Bucky turned to find Pepper, immaculate in a grey pantsuit, holding a small black briefcase, everything about her drawing a stark contrast with his own appearance. She looked every part the brutally efficient lawyer. He looked like he should be in the drunk tank. Bucky grimaced before smiling and greeting the woman. 

“Hey Pep, thanks for coming on such short notice!” he let some of the relief he felt colour his voice, wanting her to know how much he really, really appreciated her being there. 

“Not a problem.” she replied with a smile before stepping around Bucky to speak to the officer in the window. “I’m Natalia’s lawyer, I would like to see her now,” she said, passing him her ID. The man slid a clipboard to Pepper without saying anything, and she signed in, turning and smiling at Bucky as the man stood to let her in. 

“Wait here?” She phrased it like a question, but it sounded like a command, and Bucky just nodded, throwing himself down in one of the uncomfortable chairs as Pepper disappeared into the back of the precinct. He had just caught himself humming a Christmas song for the fifth time (he really wished stores would wait until after Thanksgiving before starting to play carols) when the sound of a door opening made him look up. But it wasn’t the door to the back that had opened, but the door to the building, admitting a tall and handsome black man. Bucky idly stared at his ass as he walked past, before returning to staring at the floor. He couldn’t help hearing the man when he arrived at the window, his voice loud in the quiet waiting room. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the counter, “I’m here to post bail for my roommate? Steven Grant Rogers.” Bucky frowned down at the tiles. Why was that name familiar? 

“That’ll be 500 bucks.” The officer read off. “Cash only.” The man pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, sliding it across to the officer, and Bucky raised an eyebrow. He really hoped the guy hadn’t been walking around with that kind of cash on him at this time of night. “Wait here.” The officer sighed as he stood, making it clear how much having to do his job was inconveniencing him. The guy came and sat across from Bucky, and they exchanged polite ‘hello yes I am also at the police station at 2am clearly the people in our lives make good choices’ smiles before the other man turned his attention to his phone, and Bucky returned to the very exciting floor. What was that? Was that a blood stain? God he hoped that wasn’t a blood stain. Jesus he wanted to go back to bed. Or have a smoke. Or… 

“-fucking miscarriage of justice, you had no right arresting me you fucking pigs when that motherfucker was putting drugs in those girls drinks, _I fucking saw it motherfucker_.” Bucky looked up again as the sound of shouting drew closer, the voice familiar… and then the door to the back opened up, and the cop from the front desk reappeared, now looking extremely put out, along with another cop. Between them was a very angry, very beat up Steve Rogers, and Bucky suddenly realized why he recognized the name. The man across from him stood, visibly biting back a smile as the officers removed the cuffs from his friend and wished them both a good night, the sarcasm evident in their voices as they returned to the back. 

“Have a good night Rogers?” The man asked mildly, and the smaller man stalked up to his friend, visibly shaking in anger while he rubbed his wrists. 

“Motherfucking pigs, the lot of them. You know what they did Sam? I was at the Howling Commandos and I caught this fucking piece of shit rapist fuckwit dropping pills in girls’ drinks. So I told the pervy dickwad I would either call the cops or he could leave right fucking then.” The man – Sam – had a fond smile on his face when he interrupted. 

“Let me guess, he decided to stay?” Steve nodded, jaw sticking out. 

“Fucking fucker said he hadn’t done anything but I saw the pigfucker, and he totally fucking did-” Sam interrupted again, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder as he turned him toward the exit. 

“You alright there buddy? Nothing broken.” Steve just waved off his friend, continuing with his story as the pair headed towards the exit, Sam’s body stopping Steve from spotting Bucky. 

“So we had it out, and I had him on the ropes when the fucking cops show up, and they decide to fucking arrest me! Not him! And-” Steve’s voice faded out as the doors closed behind his and Sam’s retreating backs. Bucky stared after them in bemusement for a long moment before he was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening again. Turning, he saw Pepper and Natasha leaving the back, and stood, watching as the same cops as before removed Nat’s handcuffs. 

“Musor!” She spat at their retreating backs, before turning and walking to Bucky, who gave his friend a hug as she stopped in front of him. 

“You’re all good to go.” Pepper said as they broke apart. “I’ll call you later today, Natasha, with more details, but for now, just go home and get some sleep.” Nat nodded at the taller woman. 

“What about bail?” Bucky interjected, “Do I need to-” but Pepper raised a hand, stopping him mid-sentence.

“All taken care of Bucky. Don’t worry about it. Just take Natasha home, okay?”

“Thanks Pep. I owe you big time.” The sincerity was clear in Natasha’s voice, but Pepper just waved off Natasha’s words, smiling at them both and bidding them goodnight before heading out. Bucky looked down at his friend. 

“You wanna come home with me then or…?” Natasha sighed and nodded, leaning her forehead against Bucky’s chest as she mumbled out ‘yes please’. “Alright, lets go.” 

Bucky let Natasha sit and stare out the window in silence, waiting until they were over the Manhattan Bridge and passing through Chinatown, and they both had a cigarette in hand before he spoke. 

“What happened?” He kept his voice mild, trying not to let onto how annoyed he was about this whole night, even if he probably did owe Natasha – Deus knew she’d bailed him out more than her fair share of times. From over in the passenger seat, Nat let out a heavy sigh. 

“Okay. Well the trus must have heard I was looking for him on Tuesday, because I couldn’t find any sign of him around the neighbourhood. So I went looking-” Bucky interrupted.

“If he’d skipped out, why did you bother chasing him down Natasha? You’d obviously scared him off.” But his friend was already shaking her head.

“This type of man, they’re like vultures, they smell weakness and bam!” Natasha hit her fist in her palm, making Bucky jump, “I needed to send a message. You don’t fuck with a Romanova.” She glared at Bucky until he finally threw up his hand.

“Fine, okay, you needed to send a message.” Natasha sat back, satisfied. 

“I was back down there tonight and I managed to corner one of his pals, who said he’d been hiding out at this warehouse by the Gowanus Canal. His buddy must have warned him I was coming though, because I got to the warehouse and saw him running out of there like d'yavol was after him,” Bucky snorted, but didn’t interrupt again, thinking to himself that the poor fucker might have preferred the devil to an angry Natasha. “I managed to run him down.” She stopped talking, and after several moments it became clear she wasn’t planning on continuing. 

“And?” Bucky prompted, and saw Natasha grin predatorily out of the corner of his eye. 

“And I sent a message.” 

“Jesus,” Bucky groaned. “I suppose I should just be happy you aren’t up on murder charges?” Nat scoffed. 

“Like they’d ever catch me if I decided to murder someone. It was bad luck that I got caught at all.”

“So how bad was he?” Bucky was almost afraid to ask. 

“Well,” Natasha said slowly, “I had a tire iron.”

“Jesus Maria e José.” Bucky exhaled. “What the fuck Natasha.”

“He deserved it! He trashed babushka’s flowers!” Bucky winced, instantly losing any sympathy for the filho da puta. The small garden in front of the tenement building was Mrs. Romanova’s pride and joy. Still, he had to comment.

“A tire iron though Nat? Seriously? Do you know how much worse that makes everything?”

“I threw it in the canal!” She replied, voice defensive. “I’m not a proklyatiye idiot James. I know how much worse assault charges are when there’s a weapon involved.” Bucky winced at her use of his proper name. “I only broke a couple of his ribs anyways.” She continued, sitting back and crossing her arms, voice turning sulky. “He was being such a little suka about it. I barely even hit him and he was crying.” Bucky smiled, knowing that what Natasha considered ‘barely injured’ was most men’s ‘oh god I’m going to die’. 

“Did he manage to get any hits in?” Nat hadn’t seemed injured, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t. They’d once gotten separated from their unit in a firefight and walked the hour back to the rendezvous point before Natasha finally admitted that she had been shot in the shoulder. She didn’t make a noise when Bucky pulled the bullet out (he had been screaming and crying when she’d pulled him out of the rubble that was all that was left of the building and IED that took his arm, but they didn’t talk about that). 

Nat shook her head. “He got a couple lucky shots in at first. But. Once I realized the cops coming… I gave myself a couple hits.” At Bucky’s disapproving look, Natasha’s voice again turned defensive. “What? It puts me in a better position if it looks like he got some good hits in. Now I can claim he jumped me and I was just defending myself, and there’ll be at least some doubt about my guilt.” Bucky just shook his head at his friend. He loved her, but man, she could be scary sometimes. He spared a moment to be thankful that babulya was such a hardass and had made sure Nat didn’t go anywhere near the bratva growing up. He really, really didn’t want to imagine what Natasha would be like if she had become a nayomnyj ubijca like her father had been. Nat didn’t talk about her parents much, or about their deaths in front of her when she was nine years old (it had been… bad) but Bucky knew that her father had been involved in a lot of very violent killings both back in Russia and in New York, and that all of her street smarts, as well as a lot of her hand-to-hand training had been passed to her by her father. 

The rest of their trip passed in relative silence, and Bucky could tell that Nat had followed the same train of thought that he had, and was now stringing together an unpleasant series of what-ifs. When they got back to the apartment, Natasha headed straight for the living room, curling up in a ball on the couch in the dark, and Bucky headed to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything to say to Natasha when she started thinking about her parents and followed that spiral downward, nothing that would help anyways, but he could cook her breakfast. 

He pulled the last of the alheira he’d bought from the butcher last week out of the fridge, throwing them into his largest frying pan and cracking four eggs in alongside the sausage. He threw a bowl with a pad of butter into the microwave, and then pulled out his loaf of pão de centeio, slicing off several thick slices and drenching them in the now-melted butter, before putting them in another frying pan to make torrada. Looking through his fridge, he briefly considered just making coffee, but instead grabbed the orange juice, along with Natasha’s vodka from the freezer, and made two very stiff drinks. Standing over the stove and flipping the eggs, he heard Natasha enter the room, drawn in by the smell of the cooking food, but didn’t say anything, other than to point at the other glass of alcohol. Grabbing it, Natasha leaned against the counter, watching as Bucky finished cooking. He nodded as he flipped the torrada a final time, and Nat grabbed two plates from the cupboard, bringing them over so Bucky could slide the finished food onto them. She carried both of them over to the table while Bucky grabbed two forks and his glass, joining her and digging in. He was blinking sleepily by the time he finished, and a glance at Natasha revealed she was threatening to doze off as well, so he threw his plate into the sink to wash later. Natasha did the same, pausing as she passed him on the way to her room. 

“Thanks.” she said softly, and Bucky just nodded as he headed into his room to crawl into bed for a couple more hours. Once he got into bed however, he found he couldn’t fall asleep, running over the events of the last couple hours over and over again, finding his attention snagging again and again on Steve Rogers. Nat would be alright, she always was – she was like a cat, always landing on her feet no matter how long the fall. He couldn’t get over the contrast though, between the polite, tiny little punk he’d met at the bakery who would blush at the drop of a hat and the bloody, bruised, and violently angry man he’d seen at the precinct that morning. Which was he? Bucky wondered to himself. Was he a little guy who was sweet and polite, and cared about the cashier at the bakery’s kid, or was he a little guy with a massive chip in his shoulder that picked fights to prove himself, who was angry and loud and fought cops. Bucky finally dozed off, still wondering about the other man, unable to pin him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come hang out with me!](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Russian  
> suka - bitch  
> zhopa - ass  
> trus - coward  
> d'yavol - devil  
> proklyatiye - goddamn  
> musor - trash  
> nayomnyj ubijca - contract killer  
> bratva - brotherhood (mafia)
> 
> Portuguese  
> puta - whore  
> otário - sucker  
> Deus - God  
> babaca - douchebag  
> Jesus Maria e José - Jesus Mary and Joseph  
> filho da puta - son of a bitch
> 
> Food  
> arroz de frango - chicken rice  
> shie - soup made of cabbage, potato and meat  
> borsch - Russian soup made of beet and meat, usually served with sour cream  
> pão de centeio - rye bread  
> alheira - sausage made with meats other than pork, usually veal, duck, chicken, quail or rabbit  
> torrada - toast


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays for those of you who celebrate! I shall be spending them being grumpy and hiding from my family, writing fanfic. 
> 
> So, not much different than normal. 
> 
> (as always, [slidingkinsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slidingkinsey) gets all my love)
> 
> To see translations, please hover over the text.

Bucky doesn’t know what Natasha says to Clint, but by Monday night she’s back at the bakery, and he has his apartment to himself again. She and Clint are doing that disgusting flirty-thing they do when they make up after a big fight, with Clint shoving at Natasha’s shoulder and giggling over something she had said. Bucky is miming gagging and vomiting at Bruce while the other man laughs quietly at him. Nat had just caught sight of him, and Bucky was preparing to run for his life when Darcy comes into the back. Natasha and Bucky both stop in their antics and the bakers look curiously at the teenager when she walks up to Bucky. 

“Customer wants to thank the chef,” she says with a wide grin as she pulls up next to Bucky, leaning against the counter as she looks up at him. 

“What?” Bucky asks, instantly suspicious. That big of a smile is _never_ a good sign. 

“A customer,” Darcy flutters her eyelashes exaggeratedly, “wants to thank _you_. Personally.” She practically purrs out the last word, and Bucky can feel his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. 

“I don’t… what is happening?” He looks around at the other bakers for help, but is met with blank stares in return. Darcy sighs, straightening as she drops the act. 

“A regular wants to talk to you. So move,” she shoves at his shoulder. “Move!” She repeats louder as he stumbles and begins to walk towards the front, looking back over his shoulder to mouth ‘help’ at Natasha, who only shrugs and smiles in return. Bitch. He enters the shop with more than a little bit of trepidation, not sure why someone would want to talk to him specifically… Oh god he hoped he hadn’t given anyone food poisoning, that would be very, very bad. He was both relieved and more tense when he caught a glimpse of a familiar head of blue hair, but allowed Darcy to herd him up to the counter. 

“Found him!” She announced cheerfully, and Steve turned from where he’d been perusing their selection of day-old goods to smile at Bucky. Bucky ran his eyes down the other man. He was wearing a heavy coat that was far too big for him, a bright pink knitted scarf, torn black skinny jeans, and large clunky boots. He had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, covered in patches that Bucky couldn’t quite make out, and his face seemed much better now that it was no longer smeared in dried blood. 

He looked fucking adorable. 

“Hey!” he said, eyes warm. 

“Hey?” Bucky replied, still unsure as to what was happening. Was Steve going to yell at him now? God he hoped not… for such a little guy Steve was pretty scary when he was angry. 

“Um,” Steve’s smile faltered slightly in the face of Bucky’s tone, “I just wanted to compliment you again on your baking. I was just back here to pick up my food for this week, and, um,” he was beginning to blush as he started to ramble, and Bucky couldn’t help his small smile as the man behaved as adorably shy as he had the previous week, “well I was talking to Darcy, and I mentioned that I’d met you, and how much I love your baking, and she suggested – well, I thought it seemed like it’d be, um, nice, and….” he trailed off, and Bucky couldn’t help his laugh. 

“Is this you trying to compliment me punk? Because I hate to tell you this buddy, but you kind of suck at it.”

“Yeah,” Steve responded, visibly sagging, “I suck at a lot of things.” Darcy snickered from where she was fiddling with the bags and pretending not to be eavesdropping. Steve turned bright red. “Not, not like that,” he stuttered out, and then, impossibly, blushed more, “well, I mean like that, yeah, but not, um, now…” he trailed off again, a look of horror and despair crossing his face as he raised his hands to cover his flaming skin. “Kill me.” he muttered into his hands, and Bucky laughed again. 

“Well thanks Steve,” he drawled as the man hesitantly cracked apart two of his fingers, peering out at Bucky, “that’s awful sweet of you.” The man lowered his hands, smiling at Bucky. Bucky smiled back at him, moving closer to the counter at the same time as Steve did. Steve cut a quick glance at Darcy, who was currently scrubbing at the far display case with an intensity unwarranted by the task. He lowered his voice slightly when he spoke again. 

“Yeah, um, so how long have you been baking?” Bucky tilted his head.

“Well I learned to bake when I was a kid. After my dad died I was pretty messed up so I spent a lot of time at my avó’s. She was an amazing old woman, she was the one who taught me how to bake. But professionally? I’ve been working here for two years.”

“Only two years?” Steve replied, sounding impressed, “I would have guessed you’ve been doing this your whole life.” Bucky shrugged awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I have, just not, y’know, for money.” Steve nodded. 

“Well its really cool that you get to do something you love for money-” he caught himself mid sentence, “I mean, if you love it, that is, I don’t want to presume-”

“Nah,” Bucky interrupted, waving his arm, “I do love it.”

“What did you do before?” Steve asked curiously. 

“Army.” Bucky replied tersely, feeling the smile slip off his lips and his spine stiffen. Come on, he thought to himself, he doesn’t mean anything by it, don’t be an asshole. Steve’s eyes slid to Bucky’s empty sleeve and he visibly blanched. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, eyes wide and honest as he met Bucky’s, so much sincerity in that gaze it made him feel nauseous.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky replied, voice clipped. Come on Barnes, he thought to himself, don’t do this. Steve was looking miserable. 

“Sorry again, I’ll just-”

“No!” Bucky finally got out, and as Steve turned back to him with a curious look, he forced a smile back onto his face, strained but there. “It’s fine, really, I’m just… I’m not great at talking about it.” Steve nodded seriously. 

“I’m still sorry,” he said, and Bucky shrugged, wanting to get past this already. 

“So,” he said, “what do you do?” And he was instantly glad he had asked, the way Steve’s face lit up. 

“I own a tattoo shop, well, co-own a tattoo shop in Prospect Heights? Captain America Tattoo and Piercing?” When Bucky shook his head in reply, looking apologetic, Steve continued on undeterred, “I opened it, um, ten years ago now? With my friend Peggy. She’s the other owner, I mean. We have other employees and stuff.” He laughed nervously, running a hand through that bright blue hair. “So, yeah,” he finished awkwardly, and Bucky felt a more genuine smile return to his face. 

“You like it?” He asked, and was rewarded by another grin. Jesus, Steve’s smile could power a city block, it was blinding. 

“Love it! I’ve always loved art, and this way, with tattooing, you get to put your art under someone’s skin you know? It becomes a permanent visible part of them. I love being able to do that for someone, put emotions and experiences into pictures, and then put it onto their skin for the world to see.” Steve lost all of his awkwardness when he started talking about tattooing, and Bucky added that piece to the puzzle that was Steve Rogers. Suddenly, he wanted – needed, to know about that Saturday. He needed to know where that violence had come from before he could continue flirting with the smaller man. 

“I saw you,” he said, and Steve blinked at the abrupt shift, but didn’t have time to say anything before Bucky was continuing, clarifying, “Saturday, I mean. At the precinct? Your roommate was picking you up? You didn’t see me.” He added, watching Steve grimace and run a hand over his face.

“Shit, you saw that?” He shook his head, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t… a great night for me.” 

“Your face looks better.” Bucky offered, wincing at how that came out, and Steve self-consciously raised a hand to cover the dark purple patch staining his upper cheek. 

“Yeah, well,” he offered up a wry grin, “it would be hard to look worse?” He sobered before continuing, “I’m really sorry you saw me like that.”

“Is that… is that normal for you?” Bucky asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, hiding his curiosity. Steve shifted on his feet. 

“Well, I would say no…” he laughed awkwardly, “but my roommate, Sam, he might disagree with that.” When Bucky raised an eyebrow, Steve hurried to explain. “I just don’t like bullies!” He said, voice gaining volume and eyes sparking, “there’s no excuse for victimizing other people.”

“So you decided to stand up for the little guy?” Bucky kept his voice mild, while he thought to himself that Steve probably wasn’t the best guy to intervene in violent situations, given that a stiff breeze might pluck him up and carry him away. Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky, as though he could hear what the other man was thinking. 

“Someone ought to,” he replied, voice stiff, and Bucky realized that he had offended the man.

“No, no,” he replied hastily, “its good, it’s just… it seems dangerous.” He ended lamely, not sure there was any good way to end that sentence. Steve still looked slightly dubious, but seemed mollified for the time being. He began to speak, but was interrupted by the little wooden bird popping out of the clock hanging on the wall to loudly chirp the time (Bucky hated the fucking thing, Clint and Darcy thought it was hilarious). 

“Shit,” Steve said, eyes widening as he looked up at the clock, “I have to go.” He looked back at Bucky, before rooting around in his messenger bag. He finally came up with a small card in hand, and passed it over to Bucky. “For the shop.” He explained, “If you wanted to come by some time…” he trailed off, again looking uncertain, but Bucky simply smiled it return.

“I will.” he assured the smaller man, and with a grin, Steve headed out the door, calling out a goodbye to Darcy as he went. Darcy, predictably, was at Bucky’s shoulder as soon as the door had closed.

“Oh my god Bucky, spill. Now. What happened Saturday? Why were you at the jail?” Her voice raised in her excitement, and Bucky clasped a hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes.

“Darcy,” he began, voice serious, pausing while he searched her eyes, “None of your fucking business.” And with that he turned, Darcy’s indignant reply following him as he returned to his workstation. Natasha shot him a curious glance, but he just shrugged in her direction, and she raised an eyebrow in return, before returning to her work. He realized he hadn’t told anyone about seeing Steve Saturday night. He obviously couldn’t tell Clint, as the man would want to know why _he_ had been there, but he hadn’t told Natasha either, and he told Natasha everything. Maybe it was because he didn’t really understand himself what he thought of Steve, or why he was so interested by the man. Sticking his hand in his pocket, he ran a finger across the edge of the business card tucked inside. There was one easy way for him to learn more about the man, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to take it. Not yet anyways. 

When he got into his car that afternoon, Bucky tucked the card under the visor, telling himself he’d make a decision later about whether or not his weird fascination with Steve Rogers was worth taking a trip into a tattoo parlour to interact with a bunch of strangers. For now, he would just try and push the smaller man out of his mind, before he drove himself crazy with wondering. 

\----------

That Sunday, he headed over to the De Araujo’s for their once-a-month family dinner that had become tradition ever since he’d returned from his last tour. Becca and Yadriel would drive down from Queens, he’d walk the couple blocks over to the house they’d grown up in, and María would make dinner and fuss over them. Bucky always enjoyed the chance to see his family, though he always ended up feeling vaguely guilty that he didn’t get to see them more often (his excuse, that his schedule was too punishing, felt flimsy even to him). But there was only so much of them he could take. Their constant worry for him was an ever-present spectre during his visits, no matter how many times he told them he was fine, really. 

“James!” Frederico called as he answered the door, raising his arms and embracing the taller man in a tight hug. Bucky smiled into the older man’s neck as he returned the hug. Frederico was the only one who still called him James, even his mãe had given in and started calling him Bucky when he was in high school. 

“Pai,” Bucky greeted as they stepped apart, and the man ushered him forward into the heat of the house. Becca had been calling María and Frederico pai since she was eight, a year after they had taken in the Barnes orphans, but it had taken Bucky longer to begin referring to his godparents as his parents, the memory of his birth parents more clear in his mind than Becca’s. The first time Bucky had called María mãe had been after he’d broken his arm falling out of a tree when he was fifteen, and they’d both ended up crying while Frederico drove them to the hospital. After that, he’d had to admit to himself that he had been thinking of them as his parents for a long time before he’d said it aloud. 

“Is Becca here yet?” He asked, as he took off his coat and shoes. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, thought that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t there, but his pai shook his head in response to his question. 

“Not yet,” he replied as Bucky followed him into the kitchen where his mãe was standing over the stove. She exclaimed when she saw him, rushing over to give him a hug just as tight as the one Frederico had given him. 

“Filho,” she said, voice fond as she backed out of the hug, holding him at arm’s length as she took in his slightly scruffy appearance, though he’d gone to the effort of wearing a button-up shirt and putting his hair back neatly (which he always did when seeing his mãe, though she still threatened to come after him with scissors every once in a while), “como você está?”

“Eu estou bem mãe,” Bucky replied with a hint of exasperation. “Como você está? Pai?” The tiny woman clucked at him, waving him off. 

“We are fine, do not worry about us,” she replied in heavily accented English. María insisted they spoke English when they came over, since it was easy for her to otherwise speak nothing but Portuguese with her friends and neighbours. Bucky sighed.

“Of course I worry about you, mãe-” but he was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and a cheerful female voice calling out a greeting, and they piled out of the kitchen to find Becca and Yadriel standing in the entryway. 

“You need to lock your door, mãe, pai,” Becca chided as her boyfriend helped her take off her coat. María ignored that as she came over, pressing a hand against Becca’s swollen stomach. 

“Ah! So big, querida.” 

“Mãe, stop it,” Becca complained, pushing her mother’s hands off her belly. Bucky nodded at Yadriel where the man stood quietly behind the bickering mother and daughter. It had taken Bucky a while to warm to the quiet man, since it was hard to get a read on someone who basically never spoke, but seeing him with Becca it was clear that he was devoted to Bucky’s irmã, which was enough for Bucky. That, and the fact that after getting out of prison five years earlier, he hadn’t gotten into any further trouble. Besides, once you got used to it, the other man’s silence was quite pleasant. Bucky quite enjoyed stopping by his sister’s place, when he and Yadriel would just stand in the kitchen, drinking beer and not speaking. It was nice. Quiet. 

Eventually Frederico managed to get everyone back into the kitchen, where they sat around the kitchen table while María finished with dinner (Bucky asked his mãe if she needed help several times, and was summarily rejected every time). Instead the petite woman bustled around getting dinner ready while Bucky and Becca were caught up on all the neighbourhood gossip by Frederico (Catarina down the block had run off with the butcher, leaving behind her husband and three kids, while the Vasconcelos’ youngest had just been arrested for boosting cars). María would tell them off for gossiping whenever she passed the table, before dropping particularly salacious details and then disappearing back to the stove. 

The conversation over dinner stuck to work, to Bucky’s relief. The bacalhau à Gomes de Sá was delicious, and made a pleasant change from the fast food that had made up his diet the last couple of days (Natasha had eaten all of his food while she was with him, and he hadn’t had time to go to the shop since she’d left). Becca regaled them with wild stories from the emergency room where she worked as a nurse, including once about a man who brought in his severed thumb in a plastic baggie filled with ice (home repair gone awry) while their mãe fussed that Becca shouldn’t be working anymore when she was so pregnant (accompanied by lots of heavy eye rolls from Becca). Bucky talked about recent events at the bakery, smiling when his pai asked after Natasha (Frederico had loved Natasha ever since she’d helped him fix his old chevy when she’d been over for dinner their first leave years ago). Yadriel even managed a couple sentences about his job as a mechanic, which left his mãe grinning in delight, and had Becca pressing a kiss to his cheek. After dinner they headed into the living room and María brought out the bica. Frederico had managed to corner Yadriel and was talking with the heavily tattooed man, while Yadriel nodded occasionally, facial expression never changing. Bucky belatedly realized that left him pinned between his irmã and mãe.

“Como você está?” Becca asked, and Bucky fought the urge to roll his eyes as both her and his mãe looked at him in concern. “You know mãe and I worry about you,” she continued. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky replied, fighting to keep the exasperation out of his voice. His irmã just raised an eyebrow at him, and he looked between her and his mãe. “Seriously. I’m doing good.”

“Are you still seeing your therapist?” Becca challenged, and Bucky scowled. “You’re not, are you?” She continued, catching the look on his face, “Bucky…” she sighed, and Bucky desperately searched for something to draw her attention away from a conversation they had had too many times before. 

“I’ve met someone,” he finally blurted out, before turning bright red. Yeah, that was _not_ a helpful path to go down with his irmã and mãe, who often seemed to have nothing better to do than worry about, and interfere with Bucky’s life. His utter lack of anything even remotely approaching a romantic life was one of his mãe’s favourite subjects, especially since he hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Theresa Garcia dumped him during their final year of high school. But it was too late, and his mãe’s face lit up.

“Maravilhoso!” she exclaimed.

“Who are they, how did you meet them?” Becca added, with a raised eyebrow that let Bucky know she knew he was deflecting, and she would be bringing up the whole therapist thing again later. He just hoped it would be over the phone. He had a much better time holding his own in an argument with his little sister when they weren’t face-to-face. 

“Why haven't you brought them home yet?” María demanded indignantly, “are you ashamed of sua velha mãe?” Bucky knew he was being manipulated, but he couldn’t help his reaction to the hurt look on his mãe’s face. 

“No, no, mãe, it just happened, I haven’t even really…” he scrambled frantically for something to say. Steve’s face suddenly popped into his head, and he continued impulsively, “I mean, I’m still getting to know him.”

“Him?” Becca asked perking up, and he shot a glare at his irmã.

“Well you must bring him over. I will make him comida deliciosa, show him what a good family you have, what a good esposo you will make.”

“Mãe,” Bucky groaned out, rubbing his hand over his face.

“What?” the tiny woman exclaimed, “your irmã is living em pecado-”

“Mãe,” Becca said, indignant with the old argument; even after eight years of Becca insisting that marriage wasn’t for her, their mãe hadn’t given up on the subtle (and more often, overt) hints. 

“-and I just want to see one of my preciosas crianças married before I die.”

“Mãe,” Bucky protested again, “seriously.” He knew he was lucky his firmly Catholic parents (growing up, they attended mass at the Church of the Immaculate Heart of Mary every week without fail) were totally accepting of his sexuality (and had been ever since they’d caught him making out with Tommy Da Rosa when he was fifteen and they came back from the mall earlier than expected). In the end, though, all it meant was that his mãe had a larger pool of people to attempt to set him up with (he swore, in the two years since he’d been discharged, she had set him up with every available woman and man in Ironbound). 

“I just want you to be happy querido.” And Bucky really didn’t have anything to say to the sincerity in his mãe’s voice. 

\----------

An hour later, Bucky waved a goodbye to his mãe and pai before he, Becca, and Yadriel turned and headed down the drive. 

“So Buck,” Becca said, inflicting casual as they stopped by Becca’s car, “who is this mysterious new man?” Bucky rolled his eyes. Yadriel ignored them, getting into the car and starting the engine as the siblings spoke outside. 

“No one Becca, seriously, I just met him.”

“But you think there’s something there?” she pressed. 

“Drop it Becca.” She sighed, shooting him a look that clearly conveyed that there was no way she was dropping it. 

“Just a couple of details,” she negotiated, “what does he look like?” Bucky sighed, weighing the chances of her dropping it if he gave her some information versus how angry she would be with him if he just walked away. Deciding it probably wasn’t real smart to piss off a pregnant woman, he spoke. 

“He’s a little guy, like, 5’4”? Skinny little punk. Blue hair, tattoos, piercings,” he shrugged and Bucky gave him a critical look. 

“Doesn’t sound like your usual type,” she commented, and it was Bucky’s turn to raise an eyebrow. 

“And you’d know so much about my type, hm?”

“I’ve seen your porn,” his irmã replied, voice overly cheerful.

“Becca!” Bucky shouted, and his sister laughed at him. 

“What’s he like?” she asked, and Bucky hummed. 

“Shy. Sweet. But also really angry.” 

“Now that sounds more like your type,” Becca commented, and Bucky glared at his irmã. She laughed again.

“Okay, one last question,” she promised, “what does he do?”

“He’s a tattooist.” Bucky admitted, and Becca smiled at him.

“There, that wasn’t too hard was it?”

“Goddamn was,” he replied grumpily, and his irmã pulled him into a hug. 

“I hope it works out,” she whispered to him before pulling back, pushing a flyaway hair out of his face, “you deserve to be happy, Bucky.” She finished, voice sad, and Bucky shrugged, uncomfortable. 

“I’ll talk to you later Becca.” 

“Amo-te.”

“Amo-te.”

\----------

The work week started out innocuously enough, with Bucky deciding to temporarily ignore the niggling voice at the back of his head (and the louder, more insistent voice in real life that was Natasha) that said he should really go by Steve’s shop. Bucky couldn’t help feeling awkward about having lied about him to his mother (kind of, vaguely) and his sister (directly), and didn’t want to see the the other man just yet. He was definitely intrigued by the other man, and becoming more interested with every encounter, but was still feeling disquieted enough by the contrast between the bashful, sweet man he had encountered at the bakery and the angry, violent man he’d seen at the precinct to be hesitant about the whole thing. Overall, he was feeling confused, guilty, and like he was developing a bit of a crush, and he wanted nothing to do with it. 

So he was quite successfully ignoring it. 

On Wednesday, however, the quiet of Bucky’s life was seriously disturbed when he pulled up at the bakery to find Banner standing outside chain smoking. He climbed out his car, eyeing the other man curiously as he locked his car and wandered over. 

“Bruce,” he said, halting and nodding at his friend. 

“Bucky,” he replied quietly, and when he didn’t keep talking, Bucky prompted him. 

“I thought you were quitting,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. 

“I am,” Bruce said, looking at the cigarette in his hand, “it is a non productive coping method.” Bucky hummed, used to hearing Banner quoting his therapist verbatim. “But,” Bruce continued, “I needed to remove myself from that environment,” he jerked his head back towards the bakery, “and I ducked into the bodega to warm up, and, well,” he shrugged, and Bucky nodded his understanding. 

“Whats going on in there?” he asked, tilting his head towards the bakery. Bruce made a face. 

“Natasha and Clint are having it out.” 

“Caralho,” Bucky replied, eyeing the door. He sighed. “Okay, I’m going in.”

“Good luck,” Bruce replied, face as serious as if Bucky was headed to his execution. Bucky made a face at his friend before pushing the door open, immediately assaulted by the sound of Natasha shouting in Russian. He let the door swing shut behind him as he stood and surveyed the scene in the bakery. There were a couple of smashed plates on the ground (Natasha tended to throw pottery when she got angry) and Nat and Clint were currently standing at either end of the work area, in mirror stances with fists clenched. 

“I don’t fucking understand what you’re saying!” Clint shouted back at Natasha, “Speak goddamn English, _fuck_!” Natasha stopped in her rant, breathing hard. Bucky knew from the rare arguments he and his friend had had that she tended to slip into Russian when she got really angry, and would need to calm down before she’d be able to manage saying anything in English again. 

“Nat, why don’t you go into the office?” Bucky suggested, and both of his friends started, looking up at him. 

“Khorosho,” Natasha finally replied, voice tight as she headed out of the room, and Bucky came down the stairs, greeting Clint as the other man walked towards him, rubbing his hands through his hair as he groaned in exasperation. 

“Jesus fuck,” he said as he came level with Bucky. 

“What happened?” Bucky asked, and the question seemed to shake Clint out of his reverie. 

“You!” he said accusingly, pointing at Bucky, “you fucking bastard, you _knew_!”

“Knew what?” Bucky asked, frantically trying to figure out which of Natasha’s secrets might have come to light. 

“You knew she got _arrested_. And you didn’t even _tell_ me!” _Ah_ Bucky thought to himself. 

“Um,” he began, but Clint waved his hands at him, cutting him off. 

“No, shut up, I can’t listen to this right now. _Fuck_.” Natasha came back into the room, stopping just inside the room and talking to Clint across the large space. 

“I know you don’t like it,” she said, voice hard, “but I am not obligated to tell you everything that is happening in my life. There are certain things that you can’t handle-”

“I can handle it!” Clint interrupted loudly, “I can handle it, Natasha, because it is your life, and I love you.”

“You don’t like the violence, Clint, I know you don’t.” Natasha replied, voice desperate, and Bucky began to feel uncomfortable. 

“I don’t give a shit!” Clint exclaimed, but before he could continue the back door chimed, as Bruce awkwardly came back in, taking in the scene in front of him.

“Uh, I know you are… working some things out, but we have to start baking.” Clint and Natasha looked at each other. 

“Pauza?” Natasha asked.

“Pauza,” Clint replied, and went to grab the broom. Bruce came down the stairs, returning to his workstation and Bucky headed through the room to drop his winter gear in the office. When he returned, Clint and Natasha were at their station. As he began making pastéis de nata, he heard Natasha laugh, and looked up to see her smiling over at Clint as the blond man braided his züpfe. 

“I can never decide if thats a good or bad thing,” Bruce commented, and Bucky looked over at him. 

“What?” he asked. Bruce nodded over to the couple. 

“My therapist says that is helpful to regain calm before expressing your frustration in a productive and non-aggressive way. But they just shut it down so completely.” He looked back at Bucky, who just shrugged in response. 

“I dunno,” he replied, “it seems to work for them.” Bruce snorted. 

“Seriously? They are the strangest couple I have ever met.” Bucky laughed at that. 

“Yeah, well, they’re strange people apart. Makes sense they’d have a strange relationship.” Bruce snorted his agreement before returning to work. They worked in silence for several moments before Bucky swore softly. Looking up, he saw Banner looking at him with curiosity. 

“This probably means Nat is gonna be staying at my place again.” The other man laughed loudly, and Bucky acted affronted as he bit down on a grin. 

Seriously though. He’d just bought more food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yadriel is loosely based on Maria Ruiz’s boyfriend of the same name in OITNB.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come cry about Bucky Barnes with me.](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Russian  
> khorosho - fine  
> pauza - pause
> 
> Portuguese  
> pai - father  
> filho - son  
> como você está - how are you  
> eu estou bem - I am good  
> querido - dear  
> irmã - sister  
> maravilhoso - wonderful  
> sua velha mãe - your old mother  
> comida deliciosa - delicious food  
> esposo - husband  
> em pecado - in sin  
> preciosas crianças - precious children  
> amo-te - love you  
> caralho - fuck
> 
> Food  
> bacalhau à Gomes de Sá - salted cod, potatoes, and onions topped with eggs and onions  
> bica - a longer and smoother Portuguese counterpart to espresso  
> pastéis de nata - cream puffs  
> [züpfe - a braided swiss bread](http://instagram.com/p/wkLaLsPiV2/?modal=true)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this week, but don't worry, next weeks is looking to be _very_ long to make up for it!  
> [slidingkinsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slidingkinsey) has the patience of a saint.

Bucky was in the middle of braiding up his Wednesday batch of pão trançado when he heard the door chime and looked up to see Darcy standing in the doorway, her red knit hat dusted with snow as she stood, hands on hips, glaring down at him. 

“Um…” he started, trying to figure out what he’d done now as she stalked down the stairs towards him, ignoring Clint’s forlorn ‘aw, no banana today?’. 

“What the hell Barnes?” she spat out as she reached Bucky’s station, shoving at his shoulder. 

“ _What?_ ” Bucky exclaimed, stumbling slightly, “what did I do?”

“You haven’t called Steve, or gone over to his shop, or anything!”

“Wh- how do you know that?” Bucky asked, just as Clint asked ‘wait, who the hell is Steve?’. 

“He was in here yesterday looking like someone had kicked his puppy!” Darcy responded, glowering, and Bucky shifted, uncomfortable. 

“Um.... I didn’t… I mean…” Darcy spoke over his stuttering. 

“Seriously Barnes, Steve is a total little sweetheart, why haven’t you gone seen him yet? I saw you flirting with each other!” She shoved at his shoulder again, glare softening slightly.

“Can someone tell me what is going on,” Clint demanded, coming over to stand with his hands on his hips, glaring at his friends as Natasha and Toni both also wandered over. Bucky sighed, looking around at all of his nosey coworkers. 

“He’s just some guy who comes in here, we flirted a bit, whatever.”

“They were like totally eye-fucking,” Darcy stated with confidence, and Bucky felt himself flush. 

“No we weren’t!” he protested. 

“Aw, does Bucky have a crush?” Natasha said, leaning her elbow against the table and smirking at her friend. 

“What’s he look like?” Toni asked, mirroring Natasha’s position on the other side of the table. 

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“He’s a skinny little guy, bright blue hair, lots of tattoos and piercings. _Super_ cute.” Darcy offered helpfully, grinning at the other two women.

“Wait, not Steve Rogers?” Bruce asked, looking surprised.

“You know him?” Darcy turned to Banner in surprise.

“Yeah,” Bruce replied, shifting uncomfortably under the stares of his coworkers, “he did my neck piece. Really sweet kid.” 

“So you’ve been to his shop?” Bucky asked unable to keep the interest from his voice. 

“Yea-”

“Ha! I knew you were interested!” Darcy pointed at Bucky before Bruce had the chance to finish replying. She put her hands on her hips, giving him another disapproving glare. “So why the hell haven’t you gone to see him yet?” Bucky tried to think of a reason that wouldn’t sound pathetic, and quickly gave up. 

“I – fine!” Bucky threw up his hand as his friends gazes turned from Darcy to him, “I’ll go after work. Happy?” 

“I’ll be happy when you start getting laid and stop acting like you have a stick up your ass.” Darcy replied, walking away and leaving Bucky sputtering. 

“I do not act like I have a stick up my ass!” Bucky shouted after her, affronted, but she just flipped him off without turning around. “I don’t,” he muttered to himself, turning back to his bread. Clint, Natasha, and Toni had wandered off when Darcy had, leaving only Bruce to smile in amusement at Bucky’s petulant tone. 

\----------

Bucky walked down the street, with Steve’s business card, rescued from his car, clutched in his hand as he glanced between the address listed on the card and the numbers on the buildings. Rather than fight for parking, he had decided to leave his car at the bakery and walk over to Carroll Gardens. Finally he spotted the logo covering the window of a small storefront, a twin to the one replicated in a much smaller scale on the card in his hand. 

The large, stylized letters were surrounded by flowers, swallows, and stars in traditional sailor jerry designs. The blue, white, and red words proudly proclaimed the shop to be ‘Captain America Tattoos & Piercings’. As he stepped up to the door, he was faced with a design of a pinup girl with a banner saying ‘hello sailor’. A chime rang out from above his head as he stepped into the shop, looking around curiously. The shop was small but clean, and the walls were painted with beautiful, curving abstract designs, black against white. Set against the window was a low couch, in front of which sat a coffee table covered in binders. A half wall, a blue curtain with white stars, and a counter stood between him and the back, complete with a glass case full of jewelry. Sat behind the counter was a bored looking man sporting a moustache, huge ear plugs, several lip rings, and a large neck tattoo of lady Liberty waving the French flag. 

“Bonjour, can I ‘elp you?” the man asked with a heavy accent. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, walking over to the counter, glancing at the binders on the coffee table as he passed, seeing they were full of flash, “I’m looking for Steve Rogers?” The man sat up from his slumped position, tilting his head slightly to the side without looking away from Bucky. 

“Rogers!” he shouted, and Bucky couldn’t help his small flinch at the unexpected volume. “So,” he asked, returning his voice to a more normal volume, “you here for a tat?” 

“Um, no, just-”

“Rogers isn’t here right now Dernier, what the _fuck_?” The woman who appeared from behind the curtain looked like she could have been the model for the woman on the door. Her 5’5” stature was bolstered by the bright red pumps she was wearing, and her brown hair was pinned up in curls partly covered by a red bandana. Her retro rockabilly look was completed by a tight black dress with white polkadots, bright red lipstick, a lot of tattoos, and a monroe piercing. 

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised, “sorry, I didn’t realize there was a customer here.” 

“Dernier, 'ta mère est une pute,” she said to the man behind the counter, who rolled his eyes at her, “Vous! Allez!” she jerked her hand behind her, and the man left the room with a snort. The woman took his place behind the counter, offering her perfectly manicured and tattooed hand across the counter to Bucky. “Peggy,” she said with a faint English accent as he shook her hand, “how can I help you?” 

“Um, I was actually looking for Steve?”

“Mmmmmm, he’s not here right now.” Peggy replied, pursing her lips, “were you looking for him to do your work specifically, or would you like to have a look at our other artists’ portfolios?” She paused, looking worried. “You didn’t have an appointment did you?”

“No. I mean, well, he was… I mean, he asked me to come by?” Peggy’s eyes widened, scanning him. 

“Wait, are you _Bucky_?” Bucky nodded, and she smiled widely. 

“Oh my god Steve didn’t think you were ever going to come by!” Bucky felt a jolt of guilt rock through his stomach. She reached across the counter to grab Bucky’s arm, pulling him around the counter and back through the curtain, talking the whole time. “He thought he scared you off with the whole fighting and being arrested thing, which, trust me, happens more than it really should. But I told him that anyone who could resist his ass didn’t deserve it. Besides, he never in his life got in a fight with anyone who didn’t deserve it. You can wait for him here.” She finished up as they reached one of the small rooms that the back area was divided into. A tattooist’s chair filled most of the space, and a small table and stool next to it finished the room. Bucky hovered awkwardly in the doorway, before sitting down on the stool after a nudge from Peggy. “He should be back in a bit.” 

Peggy bustled out of the room, leaving Bucky alone to look around the space he was now occupying. The walls of the small room were covered in drawings, obviously original designs, much more unique than the flash he had seen out in the waiting room. He stood to get a closer look at the drawings, impressed with the level of detail and creativity. Making his way around the room he was barely aware of how much time had passed before he heard a voice behind him. He turned away from the stylized drawing of a tiger he’d been staring at to see Steve standing in the doorway, nervously shifting from foot to foot. 

“Um, hi? Peggy said she’d left you back here, I was just getting coffee…” He trailed off and Bucky grinned at the small man, who was wearing skinny jeans, a loose grey v-neck tee-shirt, and a pair of bright pink doc martens, holding a large Starbucks cup in his hand.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky said, crossing the room to stand near the man. He’d never seen the smaller man without a coat on, and was interested to see the tattoos that covered his arms and chest. Trying not to stare too much he could see that Steve had the tattoo from the door on one shoulder, while the other arm was covered in a sleeve of avenging angels. On his chest, he could now see that the tattoo he had caught a glimpse of before was the skull of a deer with a crown of roses. 

“New hair?” Bucky asked, reaching up to tug at a strand of Steve’s now neon pink hair, before aborting the movement at the last moment, attempting to pass it off as a gesture. He was pretty sure he utterly failed at making the movement looking casual, but stopped worrying about it when Steve blushed, looking down before smiling up at Bucky. 

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “you like it?” Bucky grinned. 

“I love it.” Steve smiled shyly and they spent a long moment just looking at each other. 

“Oh!” Steve startled, breaking eye contact, “did you get a look around the shop?” he took a step back. 

“A little bit,” Bucky looked around him, “mostly just this room.” Steve laughed. 

“Peggy just dumped you in here, didn’t she?” 

“Kinda,” Bucky laughed.

“Well come on,” Steve gestured, moving out of the doorway, “I’ll give you the tour!” 

“Wait,” Bucky said, grabbing at Steve’s elbow, “is this your room?” 

“Um, yeah?” Steve paused, looking back at the room. 

“So are all of these drawings yours?” 

“Yeah,” Steve smiled, “the painting in the front room too.” 

“The logo?” Bucky asked, but Steve shook his head. 

“Nah, thats all Peggy. She does these incredible retro designs. She did my shoulder.” Steve turned, giving Bucky a better look at the pinup girl on his arm. 

“Hello sailor,” Bucky read off with a grin, dropping his voice and drawing out the ‘hello’. Steve blushed. 

“Okay, well, let me show you the rest of the shop. You saw the front?” 

“Yeah and I met, um, a really French guy?” Steve laughed. 

“Dernier. Jaques. He’s our piercer and receptionist.” 

“How many people work here?” Bucky asked as they moved back towards the front of the shop. 

“Four. There’s me, Peggy, Dernier, and Jim, our other tattoo artist. He’s not here today though.” They reached the first doorway next to the curtain, and Steve peered inside. 

“Peggy?” he asked, knocking lightly on the doorframe. Bucky couldn’t hear her reply, but Steve turned, gesturing him forward, and Bucky looked into the room, looking around in amazement. Like Steve’s workspace, the walls were covered in drawings, but true to Steve’s words, Peggy’s designs were far more retro, featuring pin up girls and modern takes on sailor jerry designs. The woman herself was sitting on the stool, sketchbook in hand and sipping on her own Starbucks cup. Another woman sat on the chair facing Peggy, but turned around when they entered. 

“Peggy, you met Bucky? And this is Lorraine.” Bucky waved awkwardly while Peggy grinned up at him. The other woman whose expression hadn’t changed since they’d entered, continued to look over at them impassively. 

“We did indeed,” Peggy replied with a smile, “nice to see you again. Steve giving you the _grand tour_?” she asked with a wink.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied slightly awkwardly while Steve laughed and pushed him back out of the room, leading him to the room across from it, gesturing inside. 

“This is Jaques’ room,” he said. Bucky glanced inside to see photographs of various piercings decorating the space. Leading them back across the hall, he pointed inside. “And this is Morita – Jim’s room.” Unlike the others, the walls of the room were relatively empty, save for several large drawings done in a traditional Japanese style. Leading Bucky past Steve’s room again, Steve opened the door at the back of the hall, leading to a final room. It seemed to be a cross between a break room, store room, and kitchenette.

“And this is the last stop of the grand tour.” Steve threw himself down in one of the chairs around the small table, and Bucky sat himself down next to him. Steve set down his cup before raising his arm, gesturing around him. “So, what do you think.”

“It’s really cool,” Buck replied, voice full of sincerity. Steve crossed his legs, drawing Bucky’s eyes to the boots. “I like your shoes,” he offered with a grin. Steve looked down at his feet as if surprised to realize he was wearing them. 

“Oh, right, um…”

“Seriously,” Bucky repeated, seeing the other man beginning to look uncertain, “they suit you.” Steve looked up, smiling. 

“Thanks.” The conversation flowed easily from that point, covering friends, family, and work, though Steve was careful to skirt around the subject of Bucky’s military service, for which Bucky was thankful. It only came to a halt when Steve glanced at his phone, startling when he saw the time. 

“Oh shit I’ve got an appointment in ten.” He gave Bucky an apologetic look, “I’ve got to go prep my station.” Bucky nodded his understanding, standing and saying his goodbyes. He left Steve digging through the boxes up on the shelving unit, making his way back up to the front of the shop. He slid aside the curtain as he entered the front of the shop, glancing over and nodding at Dernier, who just narrowed his eyes at him. Raising his eyebrows slightly, Bucky headed back out through the front door. 

“Wait!” he heard a shout and turned around to see Steve hurrying out the door behind him, shivering in the snow in his thin shirt. 

“Jesus Steve, what’re you doing, it’s freezing out!” Bucky hurried back towards the other man. 

“Sorry,” the smaller man huffed with a small smile, “just wanted to give you this.” He slipped a piece of paper into Bucky’s hand before winking at him. “Text me.” He disappeared back into the shop with one last smile, leaving Bucky alone in the street, grinning like an idiot down at the piece of paper in his hand. 

\----------

**Today 3:06 am**

Hey Steve, it’s Bucky

**Today 7:15 am**

_Hey Bucky! Sorry I was asleep… is that when you get up for work?_

Nah, I get up at one haha. I start work at 3am. 

_Shit thats early_

I’m used to it, mostly… still kind of sucks thou

_Yeah I wouldn’t be able to do that haha. I can barely drag myself out of bed at 7_

Wow seven. I sure feel bad for you. What a hard life. 

_Shut up jerk, you’re the one who decided to be a baker_

Sorry my boss is yelling at me, later. 

**Today 11:54 am**

Hey sorry about earlier.

_Your boss is a bit of a hardass huh?_

Nah. Clint’s a great guy. By yelling at me, I mostly meant mercilessly teasing me. 

_Ah haha. Why was he teasing you?_

IDK he claimed I was grinning like an idiot at my phone. 

Lies, of course. 

_Suuuuuuure_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come cry with me about Bucky!](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> French
> 
> 'ta mère est une pute - your mother is a whore  
> Vous! Allez! - you! go!
> 
> Food
> 
> pão trançado - braided bread
> 
> Tattoo references and inspiration  
> [Dernier’s neck tattoo](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a7/Eug%C3%A8ne_Delacroix_-_La_libert%C3%A9_guidant_le_peuple.jpg/800px-Eug%C3%A8ne_Delacroix_-_La_libert%C3%A9_guidant_le_peuple.jpg)  
> [Door logo & Steve’s shoulder](http://tattoomagz.com/wp-content/uploads/sailor-jerry-anchor-tattoo-rockabilly-tattoos-reviving-the-art-of-sailor-jerry-34523-900x935.jpg)  
> [Steve’s sleeve](http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/8d/7a/87/8d7a878bdd1a03e3aa6bee3e1636959e.jpg)  
> [Steve’s chest piece](http://s3.amazonaws.com/ink_prod/photos/0340/0567/deerskullme_large.jpg)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [slidingkinsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slidingkinsey) is on holiday and STILL beta'd this chapter because she is a real hero.

Bucky was curled up on the armchair in his living room, grinning down at his phone as his fingers flashed across the keys.

_I’m trying to be serious here_

Well I’m sorry I can’t take you seriously when you are insisting that NJ is actually better than Brooklyn.

_I have yet to find a place in Brooklyn that serves pastéis de nata half as good as the ones in Ironbound_

There’s more to places than food you know.

_mmmm, is there tho?_

Yeah. There’s culture, people…

_what, you’re saying we don’t have culture?_

...museums

_...okay, you may have me there_

told u

_I suppose there’s no convincing you otherwise, is there?_

Sorry, there’s just no redeeming qualities to NJ

_ouch_

Well… maybe I can think of one thing ;)

Bucky felt a small smile creep across his face despite himself as he read Steve’s response. Though he hadn’t seen the smaller man since his trip over to his shop the previous week, they had been texting steadily ever since, to the delight of his friends. Darcy was having a field day with the whole thing, and if he wasn’t so interested in Steve already, he’d probably stop texting him just to spite her. The girl was _way_ too smug. He was trying to decide what to type in response when he heard the quiet padding of Natasha entering the room, lightly knocking on the wall with her knuckles as she passed. After a couple of… unfortunate incidents just after Bucky’s discharge, they had both begun to make a conscious effort to make noise whenever they moved around the house. Their trips to the hospital had decreased significantly after that.

“Zhalkiy.” Natasha commented dryly as she stopped just inside the living room, looking down at Bucky.

“Cadela ciumenta.” Bucky snapped back, and Natasha snorted, moving past him to fling herself dramatically down on the couch.

“So how’s _Steeeeve_?” she asked, and Bucky looked over to glare at her, but wasn’t able to help himself from returning her smile when he saw the fond look she was giving him.

“He’s good,” he grumbled, quickly stifling his smile and looking down at his phone, “he’s… yeah, good.” He looked back at Natasha to see his friend grinning at him.

“When are you gonna ask him on an actual date?” she teased, “you are so much more fun when you’re getting laid.” She abruptly sat up from her slouched position, “wait, you’re not sexting him are you?” Natasha mock-gasped as she reached over to swat at Bucky’s leg, “James Buchanan Barnes, you bad boy.” She shook her head, “having sex with your boyfriend while I’m in the room with you.”

“Jesus Nat, I’m not fucking sexting him, you  louca-” he carried on muttering under his breath in Portuguese while his friend laughed at him, before the end part of her sentence finally registered. “-and he is not my boyfriend!”

“Yet,” Natasha replied with an exaggerated wink, then sighed as Bucky just rolled his eyes and turned back to his phone.

“Seriously Bucky, you obviously like this guy. What’s the holdup?” Bucky dropped his phone in his lap, abandoning his attempt to reply to Steve and sitting up and scrubbing his hand over his eyes as he sighed. Natasha sat up straighter, leaning towards her friend.

“I just- Jesus Nat, I’m so fucked up, I’m moody, I’m so fucking angry all the time, I’m goddamn _dangerous_...”

“And I’m not?” He shot her an exasperated look from hooded eyes.

“Nat-”

“No, seriously Buck. What can you say about you that doesn’t apply to me?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking down at his left shoulder then back up at Natasha. She waved a hand at him, impatient.

“Okay, fine, you came back with a bit more physical damage than I did. But I still have scars from knives and bullets, I have shrapnel embedded in my thigh, fuck, after that IED explosion, I wouldn’t let Clint see me naked for months because of the burns.” Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but Natasha help up a hand.

“I know that my physical damage can’t compare to yours. And I’m not going to pretend that I have any idea what its been like for you, to have to deal with how much losing your arm fucked with your head, or having to do everything with one hand. But I still wake up screaming, I still almost stabbed Clint the other week when I didn’t hear him come into the kitchen behind me, I still have PTSD.” Bucky jerked at that, never having heard his friend actually admit out loud that she also suffered from the disorder that left Bucky unable to hear a car alarm without having a panic attack.

“Just because you came back damaged doesn’t change the fact that you came back James,” she continued softly, “you’re alive, you deserve to live. You deserve to be happy.” Bucky shook his head.

“Do I?” he asked helplessly, “the things I did over there, Nat-”

“The things we did,” she interrupted, face hardening, “or did you forget?” Bucky paused, then shook his head.

“No, Nat, never. It’s just…” he raised his hand helplessly, gesturing around him, “I joined the army because of my dad. Because I wanted to do right by his memory, and because I knew that if I joined up, there’d be more money for Becca to go to school. Because I was pretty sure if I didn’t, I was going to end up in prison.” Natasha nodded her head, familiar with Bucky’s history, with the poverty he’d grown up in. Despite their best efforts, Frederico and María had never had much, leaving Bucky with no money for school and dismal high school grades, with few choices.

“But the army ground me out and left me with nothing but a fucked up head and one arm. What the hell do I have to offer to Steve? He’s a good guy. Like, a _good guy_.” Natasha shot him an annoyed look.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to decide that?”

“What?” Bucky looked up startled.

“Clint loves me, despite who I am and what I’ve done. He made that choice. Who the fuck are you to decide what Steve wants or deserve for him? If he’s interested in you, it’s his call if its too much for him. Not yours.” Bucky thought that over, pulling out a cigarette and giving one to Natasha.

“But he doesn’t know who I am. Not really.” Natasha’s face softened as she blew smoke into Bucky’s face.

“So let him find out.  Pridurok .” They sat smoking in silence for several minutes, and were on their second cigarettes before Bucky broke the silence.

“Okay,” Bucky gave his friend a small smile, laughing slightly as he sat back, “when the fuck did you get so wise?”

“Excuse you,” Natasha replied, mock-affronted, “I have always been wise.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You’re just too stupid to notice.” Bucky laughed, shaking his head at his friend who reached over and punched him in the shoulder, grinning.

“I mean, seriously Bucky. I get that you want to protect yourself, and I get that you don’t want to let yourself get close to someone just to find out that they can’t handle it. But if you never give anyone a chance, you’re never going to find someone who can handle it.” She grinned, “besides, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like Steve is well experienced with violence and has a lot of issues of his own. Maybe he’s just as worried about you not being able to handle his anger as you are about him.” She raised an eyebrow at her friend, leaning forward and stubbing out her smoke. “You’re a match made in fucked up heaven.” Standing and stretching, she looked down at Bucky.

“C’mon,” she gestured, and Bucky stood, looking at her curiously, “lets go get dinner, I’m starving.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“You’re always starving.”

“Let’s go to Sol-Mar,” she continued, ignoring Bucky, “I’ve been craving their costeletas de porco em molho de alho all week.” Bucky perked up as he followed her to the door, grabbing his coat off its hook.

“I do love their arroz de frango.” Natasha shot him a look as they left the flat.

“Seriously, Bucky, you get the same fucking thing at every restaurant we go to.”

“I like what I like,” Bucky grumbled defensively as he locked the door, and Natasha laughed at him, “you’re driving!” he shouted after her retreating back.

\----------

**Today 12:32 pm**

Hey Steve, I was wondering if you were doing anything tomorrow night?

**Today 2:45 pm**

_Sorry, I was with a client_

_No, I’m not doing anything :)_

Me and some friends of mine are heading over to Sunny’s in Red Hook, if you’d like to come?

I mean, you can totally bring some of your friends too or whatever.

There’s going to be a lot of people, idk.

I mean, its probably not really your thing.

_Jesus Barnes give a guy a chance to reply_

...sorry

_I’d love to come :)_

oh okay cool :)

Uh, I think we’re planning on going around 8.

_I’ll see you tomorrow then :)_

:)

\----------

A bomb exploded to Bucky’s left as he dodged around an overturned truck, the sound of gunfire loud in his ears as he frantically looked around for the source of the shooting, and then-

“Ha!” Natasha shouted, punching her fists into the air. Bucky gaped at the screen, before huffing and tossing his controller down on the coffee table.

“You cheated,” he growled, slouching down into the couch, crossing his arm over his chest defensively. Natasha laughed.

“You’re just sooooo bitter that I am soooo much better than you.”

“I was the goddamn best sniper in the entire United States army,” he growled, glaring at her as she jumped up and started doing her victory dance, “my kill count is classified information. I am a fucking deadly killing machine.”

“And you suck at video games,” Natasha sang, dancing around the couch, forcing Bucky to crack a smile as he watched his friend make an ass out of herself. His therapist had nearly had an aneurysm when he mentioned his and Natasha’s frequent, and epic, battles on various first person shooter games (yet another reason she was his _ex_ -therapist). He didn’t really understand why it didn’t affect his PTSD – Natasha thought it was because it was so removed from the realities of war, while Bucky figured it was because, unlike the random loud noises that triggered his panic attacks, he knew the game was the source of the noise, not an enemy combatant. Whatever the reason, he found it calming and distracting, even if Natasha was insufferable when she won… which she did a lot. Even with his modded controller, playing one handed was still a challenge (that was his excuse and he was sticking to it… Clint claimed that Natasha always beat him because his hearing aids couldn’t pick up the noises from the video games properly, so, y’know, at least he wasn’t alone).

Natasha had just sat back down and Bucky had picked up his controller, preparing for another blow to his ego, when the buzzer sounded. Exchanging a look with Nat, Bucky paused the game and stood and headed over to the door, pushing the button of the ancient intercom system.

“Hello?”

“Hey it’s Clint.” Bucky glanced at Natasha, who had unpaused the game and was currently stalking Bucky’s helpless character. Turning to put his body between her and the intercom, Bucky lowered his voice.

“What are you doing here man?”

“Please dude, just let me up. I need to talk to her.” Bucky hesitated, uncertain. “Por favor,” Clint repeated, desperation obvious in his voice, and Bucky made a decision, hitting the button to buzz his friend in. He lingered by the door, shooting glances at Natasha, who had apparently decided she didn’t care about who was at the door, as she was currently gleefully blowing up a truck. Rolling his eyes, Bucky turned back to the door at the sound of a hesitant knock. Opening the door he was greeted by the sight of Clint, red faced from the cold and looking very nervous. Jerking his head, Bucky opened the door a bit wider, and Clint stepped into the flat.

“Who-” Natasha finally looked over from the game to see Clint standing in their entryway as Bucky shut the door behind him, moving around him and towards his room, hoping to avoid having to play referee in whatever was about to go down between his two friends.

He’d never been so lucky.

With a jerk, he was brought to a halt by the iron grip of Natasha’s hand on his shirt collar. Without even glancing at Bucky, she kept her eyes on Clint.

“What are you doing here?” Clint cleared his throat before squaring his shoulders.

“I came to apologize. And to get your apology.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Natasha’s voice was soft, and Bucky winced. Clint’s eyes flicked to Bucky, who was pretending very hard to not be there, and then back to Natasha.

“You heard me. I’m sorry I blew up at you Nat, that wasn’t fair of me. But you can’t hide shit like being arrested from me.”

“I can keep whatever the fuck I want from you, _Clint_. It’s my  proklyatiye business, not yours.”

“No!” Clint snapped back, “It’s our fucking business Natasha. We’re partners or we’re nothing, caramba.”

“Can I leave now?” Bucky asked, looking at Natasha.

“No!” She replied, looking at him at last, “You have to tell him, tell this damn durak that he can’t handle knowing everything about my life. You know. You _know_.” She shoved him slightly towards Clint, but he didn’t look over at his old friend, instead continuing to look at Natasha.

“Maybe you should try and remember the advice _you_ gave me yesterday.” She pursed her lips, glaring at him, but before she could respond, he turned to Clint.

“And you. Clint, man, if you can’t handle Nat not telling you everything about her life… I hate to tell you this, but you fell in love with the wrong Russian.”

“Oh vai para a puta que te pariu, Bucky.” Clint snapped. Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever. I’m out. Sort our your own fucking drama.” Deciding staying in the apartment really didn’t put quite enough space between him and his friends, Bucky grabbed his coat and his smokes and headed outside. He’d go harass old Mrs. Almedia and Cristóvão until the two idiotas teimosos had sorted their shit out.

\----------

When Bucky had returned to the apartment an hour later (and after getting the full rundown on the neighbourhood gossip from Mrs. Almedia) he found Natasha and Clint sitting at the table and talking like normal adult humans, so he cautiously hoped this meant that the whole “arrested for assault” thing was behind them now (along with the whole “Bucky knew but didn’t tell Clint” part of it). He was sure there’d be another huge blowup when it went to trial or whatever would happen next, but hey, at least for now they seemed to have reached a truce. It also meant that Natasha went back to the city with Clint that night for the first time since their fight the previous week, leaving Bucky blissfully alone in his flat.

The only downside of this, of course, was that it also meant he was alone in his flat the whole of Saturday leading up to what he was cautiously terming as his first date with Steve, even if it was more of a group thing. Which gave him plenty of time alone in his head to freak out about the whole thing.

“What do people even wear?” He asked as he frantically flicked through his closet, phone held tight between shoulder and ear. Darcy’s sigh echoed across from the other end of the line.

“I don’t know Buck. You’re old. How should I know what old people wear?”

“Darce!” Bucky was near to shouting.

“Jesus,” she laughed, “calm the fuck down Barnes. Okay. First date, casual group thing, at a bar. I’d go with a nice pair of jeans, but still, like, jeans. Casual. Pair it with… oh! Do you still have that red vee-neck Clint got you?” Bucky reached up, pulling down the shirt in question, looking at it skeptically.

“The one I’ve never worn?”

“Yeah!” she replied, “remember, I was at your birthday when he gave it to you. You look _totally_ fuckable in it. Like, I’d tap that.” Bucky grimaced.

“It’s way too small,” he grumbled, throwing it onto his bed alongside his nicest pair of jeans, clicking the phone over to speaker before beginning to change.

“Ex- _actly_ ,” Darcy replied, voice smug, “if he isn’t all over you and those yummy chest muscles you hide so well, I will eat my tongue.” Pulling the shirt over his head, Bucky looked at himself in the mirror, picking at the way the shirt fabric clung to his skin. The cut of the neck was deep enough to reveal some of the spiderweb of scars that covered much of Bucky’s torso, with the worse concentration centered around the stump of his missing arm.

“I look ridiculous,” he growled, tugging uncomfortably at the shirt’s neck.

“Ridiculously sexy!” Darcy chirped back.

“You can’t even see me!”

“Don’t have to!” he could practically hear her grin, “I can sense the sexiness. I have a sixth sense for sexiness, trust me.” Bucky rolled his eyes, but had to admit that Darcy did normally know what she was talking about. Huffing, he turned away from the mirror, kicking his discarded sweats under his bed and scooping up his phone as he passed.

“I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it! Peter agreed to babysit, so me Jane and Thor will all be there!” Bucky paused. He sometimes forgot because of how old she acted but-

“You’re not legal.”

“That’s not what my ID says.” She sang, and Bucky grinned. That was his girl.

“See you tonight Darce.”

“Later, Buck-o.”

Pressing end, Bucky tucked his phone into his pocket, then tucked his dogtags into his shirt, looking at the time. It was just past seven, so he grabbed his keys. He might as well head out now.

\----------

The inside of Sunny’s was crowded and loud, and Bucky was relieved to see that Clint and Natasha had beat him there, and had grabbed a large corner booth. Clint was grinning and waving exaggeratedly as Bucky headed over.

“Buckster! My main man!” Clint and Bucky slapped hands as Bucky slid in next to the couple. Clint’s other hand was wrapped securely around Natasha’s waist and Bucky smiled to see the way they were leaning towards each other. Natasha had texted Bucky that day reassuring him and she and Clint had resolved all their differences, and they weren’t just putting forward a happy front. He’d replied ‘yeah, I don’t give a fuck’ but really was relieved that the two had definitely put their massive fight behind them. Natasha leaned over, looking Bucky up and down.

“Nice look Buck.” Bucky shifted uncomfortably.

“Darcy told me to wear it.”

“Well Darcy was right about that,” Clint responded with an exaggerated leer, “you are looking _fine_ my friend.” Bucky snorted.

“Darcy was right about what?” Jane asked as she suddenly appeared out of the crowd, pulling out a chair.

“Darcy was right about everything.” Darcy said with confidence as she pulled out the chair next to Jane. She paused, glancing at Bucky with a critical eye, before grinning, “including that shirt. Nice one Buck.” Bucky scowled and tugged at the hem of the shirt as Thor also slid into a seat at the table.

“Greetings friends!” Thor grinned at the group, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile back. The waitress appeared behind him, and Thor ordered several pitchers while the others began to catch up – it had been a while since the bakers had gone out for drinks, and they were excited to see their friends and catch up on their lives. Thor regaled them all with an epic tale regarding an obstinate customer he’d had who had been convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he understood better than Thor how to make a kitchen set. The customers that tended to patronize Thor’s small carpentry company were usually very rich and _very_ stubborn, and the large man always had entertaining stories to share. Jane meanwhile was in the middle of telling some sort of obscure and very complicated story about her research to Clint, who was nodding along. Bucky was barely listening to the conversations around him, however, instead making faces back and forth with Darcy across the table. He froze, mid sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes when he caught a glimpse of bright pink hair, and turned to see Steve grinning at him from across the room. It was Bucky’s turn to flush as the small man began picking his way across the bar, accompanied by Peggy and the man that had picked Steve up from the police station – Sam, he remembered, Steve’s roommate.

“Hey,” Steve said as he and his friends drew level with the baker’s table, nervously running his hands through his hair. Bucky stood, grinning.

“Hey,” the two men stood, smiling at each other for a long moment before Sam loudly cleared his throat from behind him.

“Oh, shit,” Bucky gestured around the table, who were all looking up at him expectantly, “right, um, this is my boss, Clint, and this is Natasha, Darcy, Jane, and Thor.”

“Steve,” Steve smiled at the table, before gesturing at his friends, “and this is Peggy and Sam.”

“Nice to meet you!” Clint grinned up at the newcomers, “have a seat!” Steve and his friends settled in at the table, Steve sitting next to Bucky as conversation picked up again and more beer was ordered. Bucky found himself drawn into a conversation with Clint, Steve, and Peggy.

“So how did you end up owning a bakery?” Peggy asked.

“Well, when I graduated from high school-”

“Barely.” Bucky muttered.

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, so I ended up wandering around Europe for a while,” Clint continued, ignoring Bucky and speaking louder, “and I ran out of money in Paris so I got a job at this little tiny bakery and I was hooked!”

“So what made you come back to the States?” Steve asked. Clint shrugged.

“I just missed it. And then I got back here, and ended up working at a bakery in Red Hook and when the owner, Janet, decided to retire, I bought the place.”

“That’s so cool!” Clint grinned.

“Thanks, but I’m not sure its quite as cool as owning a tattoo shop.” Peggy and Steve grinned.

“Yeah, I don’t really know how I let Steve talk me into that one.”

“Talk _you_ into it?” Steve looked over at his friend incredulously, “I like, suggested it, once, and you showed up a week later with a loan application and the real estate pages.” Peggy laughed, nudging her friend’s shoulder.

“Well, what can I say. This kid has the crazy ideas, I just help him achieve them.” The friends laughed.

“How long-” but Clint wasn’t able to finish his sentence before being interrupted by an enthusiastic greeting from behind them.

“Sup bitches?” The group turned to see Toni standing behind them, grinning, with Pepper standing next to her, rolling her eyes.

“Toni! Pepper!” Thor’s loud greeting drew the attention of the remainder of the group.

“Sorry we’re late,” Pepper said as she and Toni joined them at the table, “ _someone_ kept getting distracted.”

“Genius waits for no one,” Toni huffed, “that new cream fill recipe is going to blow all of your minds.” Ignoring her girlfriend, Pepper reached across the table, offering her hand to Sam.

“Pepper Potts. And this is my girlfriend, Toni Stark. Feel free to ignore her.” Sam grinned at her.

“Sam Wilson. Steve’s friend?”

“Ah, the infamous Steve,” Pepper grinned at Bucky, who blushed, and gestured to the man sitting next to him, who offered his hand to Pepper.

“Steve Rogers.”

“I’ve heard a lot of good things about you Steve. A pleasure.”

“Um…” Steve looked pleased but slightly uncertain, looking at Bucky while Peggy introduced herself to Pepper.

“Sorry, you may have been the subject of some office gossip.” Bucky told him quietly, “my friends are all terrible people.” Steve laughed, blushing.

“Well, my friends may have heard some things about you as well, so I suppose thats fair.”

“I mean, I had to practically drag it out of him,” Sam interrupted, grinning.

“Drag-?” Bucky asked.

“The reason he was smiling like a lovesick idiot all of the time.” Sam smiled larger as Steve let out an outraged ‘Sam!’ and Bucky laughed.

“Buck’s been doing the same thing.” Clint leaned forward, and he and Sam laughed as their friends shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Aw, look at them,” Sam leaned his head on his hand, a shit-eating grin crawling across his face.

“Adorable,” Clint agreed, mirroring Sam’s position as Peggy laughed and Bucky and Steve blushed.

“Cale-se Clint, seu cabrão.” Bucky hissed, while Steve reached behind Peggy to shove at his friend’s shoulder. Their friends just laughed again in response.

“So Sam,” Clint asked, turning to his new ally, “how do you know Steve?”

“Oh we’ve known each other since high school.” He glanced over at Steve, smiling, “Yeah, I met him when he was getting the shit kicked out of him for defending some other kid. Tiny little fucker was having his ass handed to him but he was still kicking and screaming.” Sam shook his head, adopting a morose countenance, “and twelve years later, I’m still pulling him out of fights.” Peggy laughed, and Sam shot her a look, “Don’t laugh, you just encourage him and I have to clean up the mess.”

“Guilty as charged,” Peggy raised her hands.

“So you must have some good stories about Steve when he was younger,” Bucky asked, ignoring the faces Peggy was making at Sam.

“Do I ever,” Sam said, sitting forward, “okay, lets see… okay, so we had this teacher who was super gung-ho about social justice, had like, this after school group for it and shit. Anyways, he organized this awareness campaign, meant to bring attention to the plight of women in the middle east. So he got a couple of girls to volunteer to wear a burqa around school for a day, not speaking to anyone. Which was supposed to raise awareness to how oppressed they are or whatever. Steve and I are walking down the hall when we happen to run into one of those girls. Now, neither of us knew about this awareness campaign, so Steve here, he goes up to this girl and is all ‘hello, welcome to the school, did you just move here?’ and the girl isn’t answering but she’s pretty obviously becoming more and more uncomfortable because Steve is being so friendly, so finally she snaps and tells him who she is and why she’s wearing the burqa.”

“Oh shit,” Clint laughed.

“Oh shit is right. Steve marches up to the teacher’s room, middle of break, tons of students and teachers around, and starts _reaming out the teacher_. Telling him that he can shove his colonialist judgement of other culture’s clothing up his ass, and that he has no right to tell women what they can or cannot wear, that he’s an imperialist bastard, cussing up a storm and tearing the teacher a new one. Eventually the vice principle shows up, shuts it down. Steve got suspended for two weeks.” Bucky and Clint both laughed while Steve blushed.

“Oh come on, thats not even that bad. What about when he was parking in that shitty neighbourhood in our sophomore year and got into that massive fight with those dealers, that was bad.” Peggy interjected.

“Yeah, well, that was after he met you Pegs, and you started _encouraging_ him.”

“I was not that bad!” Steve exclaimed, pouting. Sam and Peggy gave him identical incredulous looks.

“He happened to notice these dudes selling to young kids in the neighbourhood he was parking in, so he started throwing up a massive fuss every time he saw it, and the dealers were losing money, so they ended up smashing up his car.” Sam leaned forward, pointing at Steve, who grinned unrepentantly.

“Such a fucking mess.” Peggy shook her head.

“He had to sleep on my couch for a week while his car got fixed,” Sam shook his head.

“Wait, what?” Clint frowned.

“I was living in my car,” Steve explained, and Bucky turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Um, why?”

“After I got kicked out of my eleventh foster home, I kind of gave up on the system, started living in my car. It was easier.” Bucky frowned. He knew that, like him, Steve was an orphan, having lost his father, a soldier, when he was an infant, and his mother when he was fourteen, and had grown up in the system, but Steve hadn’t mentioned living in a car. Seeing Bucky’s look, Steve hastened to reassure him.

“No, really, it was fine. Nothing bad happened to me.” Sam snorted, and Steve shot him a glare, “ _Nothing bad happened_.”

“That’s rough man,” Clint said, and Steve shrugged, before smiling.

“It happens.” There was an awkward moment of silence, before Clint perked back up.

“Hey, did you know that I’ve known Buck since we were kids too?” Steve shook his head, and Clint grinned.

“Well, let me tell you some stories about young Bucky Barnes…” Bucky put his hand over his eyes and groaned.

\----------

Steve and Bucky had been texting each other more frequently since the night at the bar and, Natasha’s voice in mind, Bucky had been working up his nerve to ask Steve out on a proper date, but hadn’t quite gotten up the nerve to do it yet. As he helped Clint mix the dough for the marble rye he attempted to compose a text asking Bucky for dinner or something. He was hoping to be slightly less spastic than when he texted Steve about the previous Saturday. Clint was singing Britney Spears under his breath softly as he swayed where he was standing next to Bucky, distracting him from his thoughts.

“You doing alright there?” Clint asked, nudging Bucky with his hip.

“Hm? Oh, yeah fine. Just thinking.” Clint grinned over at his friend.

“Oh yeah? About what? Or should I say who?” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Não é da sua conta, babaca.”

“Da minha conta? Tudo o que você-” the sound of Bucky’s phone going off interrupted Clint’s response, and Bucky crossed his eyes at his friend while he hit answer on his phone.

“Hello?”

“Oh my filho, thank Deus-”

“Mãe? What?”

“Sua irmã está em trabalho de parto!”

“Oh fuck. Oh merda, sorry mãe um, okay. Okay. I’m on my way.” Bucky stared at his phone for a long moment before looking up at Clint, eyes wide.

“Buck? You okay man? What was that?” Bucky opened and closed his mouth.

“Becca’s having her baby.” Clint startled.

“Wait seriously dude?” Bucky nodded, still stunned, and Clint whooped, turning to the rest of the bakers who had looked up in alarm.

“Bucky’s going to be an uncle!” The bakers exclaimed their surprise and excitement while Bucky looked down at his phone again.

“I’m going to be an uncle,” he repeated, voice soft as a small smile crept across his face.

\----------

Natasha stepped through the hospital’s sliding doors ahead of Bucky, heading for the reception. There had been a brief, but fierce fight amongst his friends over who would drive Bucky to the hospital as they had collectively decided he still looked a bit too shell shocked to be driving himself over. Natasha had won, mostly through intimidation and sheer determination.

“Maternity is on five,” Natasha said, rejoining Buck and steering him towards the elevators. In the elevator, he kept shifting nervously from foot to foot, and Natasha looked over at him, snorting.

“What are you so nervous for? You’re not the one pushing a baby out of your vlagalishche.” Bucky glared at her, and she rolled her eyes in reply. “Muzhchiny slaby,” she muttered to herself as the elevator dinged and they stepped into the maternity ward.

“James!” Bucky turned at the sound of his name to see his pai standing in the waiting area.

“Pai!” Bucky hurried towards him, hugging him tightly, “where’s Becca and mãe?”

“In room 523,” Bucky’s pai responded.

“Hello Mr. De Araujo,” Natasha greeted, and the older man smiled at her.

“She was… gritando como o diabo. María kicked me out.” Frederico shrugged, looking embarrassed, and Natasha grinned.

“Don’t worry Mr. De Araujo,” Natasha said, “we’ll go and get you an update, okay?” She grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him down the hall. He shot his pai a helpless look, trailing behind Natasha. When they reached 523, they could hear the faint sound of Becca shouting bloody murder, and Natasha looked over at Bucky, who was looking nervously at the door. Rolling her eyes again, she shoved him forward, and he opened up the door.

“Excuse me-” was all the nurse managed to get out before Bucky’s mãe was coming up to him, ushering him in and speaking to him in rapid Portuguese. On the bed, Becca was glaring over at them, Yadriel crouched next to her whispering. Bucky caught a few words in Spanish as he was pulled across the room by his mãe, taking up the station at Becca’s other side, offering up his hand, which Becca grabbed instantly and squeezed with a ferocity that had Bucky wincing.

“Hey Becca,” Bucky smiled down at his irmã, who glared up at him.

“Vai chupar uma rola, seu saco de merda,” Bucky widened his eyes, shooting a glance over at Natasha, who was biting down on a smile.

“Alright then,” he said under his breath, “lets do this.”

\----------

Seven hours later, Bucky, Natasha, Yadriel, and Frederico were slumped in the waiting room, coffee cups loosely held in their hands. They were in various states of lucidity, Natasha having just returned from calling the crew at the bakery to give them an update.

“Come!” María suddenly appeared in front of them, “she wants to see you now.” Standing with a groan, Bucky and the others all headed back to Becca’s room. Opening the door, they were greeted by a tired but smiling Becca, hair a messy halo around her face as she looked over at them.

“Vem,” she said as they approached, “meet Andréa Marianna Ruiz.” María cooed as she stood over the little bundle cradled in Becca’s arms. With her shock of dark black hair and her tiny button nose, Andréa was one of the cutest babies Bucky had ever seen (in his totally non-biased opinion). Yadriel settled on the bed next to his girlfriend and daughter, a small smile on his face as Becca looked up at him, and they shared a quick kiss. After several minutes of listening to her family coo over the newborn, Becca handed the baby over to her mãe who wandered around the room rocking softly and singing under her breath. Finally, she settled on the bed next to Bucky, who leaned over and looked at the sleeping face of his niece.

“Do you want to hold her?” Bucky turned to look at his sister, who was smiling at him, Yadriel’s arm around her shoulders. He shrugged awkwardly.

“I don’t know that-”

“No, you totally can.” Natasha came around the bed.

“Do you mind?” she directed at Becca, taking one of the pillows behind her at the other woman’s nod of assent. She set the pillow on Bucky’s left side, bringing his other arm around in a cradle, before going over to María and taking the proffered baby. Turning back to Bucky, she settled the infant carefully in his arm, the pillow lending extra support to her bottom while her head was securely cradled in the crook of his elbow. The baby burbled, shifting slightly in her sleep, and Bucky smiled down at her.

“Hey Andréa. Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One handed video game controllers [are actually](http://www.oneswitch.org.uk/1/AGS/AGS-onehand.htm)[ something that exist](http://www.benheck.com/controllers/) which is excellent. 
> 
> [Video game therapy for PTSD](http://www.marketplace.org/topics/tech/mind-games-mental-health-and-virtual-reality/using-virtual-reality-video-games-treat)
> 
> Yes, the Janet that Clint bought the bakery from is Janet van Dyne. Because fuck the Ant-Man movie.
> 
> I was gonna have Becca name her baby after her mother, but then I found out their mother was named Winifred, and I was like ‘hell no’. 
> 
> Russian  
> zhalkiy - pathetic  
> pridurok - moron  
> proklyatiye - goddamn  
> durak - fool  
> vlagalishche - vagina  
> muzhchiny slaby - men are weak
> 
> Portuguese  
> cadela ciumenta - jealous bitch  
> louca - crazy  
> por favor - please  
> caramba - damn it  
> vai para a puta que te pariu - go back to the whorehouse that birthed you  
> idiotas teimosos - stubborn idiots  
> cale-se - shut up  
> seu cabrão - you fuck  
> cadela - bitch  
> não é da sua conta - none of your business  
> babaca - douchebag  
> a minha preocupação? - my business?  
> tudo o que você - everything you  
> filho - son  
> Deus - God  
> mãe - mother  
> sua irmã está em trabalho de parto - your sister is in labour  
> merda - shit  
> gritando como o diabo - screaming like the devil  
> vai chupar uma rola, seu saco de merda - go suck a dick you piece of shit  
> vem - come
> 
> Food  
> pastéis de nata - cream puffs  
> costeletas de porco em molho de alho - broiled pork chops in garlic sauce  
> arroz de frango - chicken with rice  
> [marble rye - dark and light rye twisted together](http://instagram.com/p/xKF39BviTB/?modal=true)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains homophobic slurs
> 
> Posting early because. Only one chapter left to go!
> 
> Credit as always to the very patient [slidingkinsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slidingkinsey) for beta'ing.

“Yo puta, what’s up?” Clint greeted as he walked up to Bucky and Darcy, “Darcy, hows it hanging?” Darcy and Bucky rolled their eyes in unison as their boss pulled out a chair and sat next to them. The small cafe was busy for a weekday afternoon, loud, crowded, and cozy with the snow swirling past the windows. Katie was sitting in Darcy’s lap, cheerfully scribbling away with her crayons in her colouring book. “Hey monkey,” Clint greeted, leaning forwards, “what do you have there?” Bucky had asked Darcy out for coffee after work to help him figure out the best way to ask Steve out. Well, actually he’d said he wanted to catch up with her, but he was pretty sure she’d seen through to his main motive. 

“What are you doing here Clint?” Bucky asked as the barista brought their coffees over. Clint sat back up straight, giving Katie back her red crayon. 

“Oh, just stalking my employees. You know how it is.” Bucky rolled his eyes. Darcy had told him they should go to a different cafe. But the one across the street was just so convenient, even if all the bakers were regulars there. 

“So what are you guys doing here?” Clint passed Katie a crayon. 

“We’re hanging out. Like friends do.” Bucky said dryly. 

“Bucky needs help asking Steve out.” Darcy said cheerfully. 

“Jesus Darce,” Bucky groaned, “why you gotta do me like that?” She grinned at him, unrepentant. 

“Seriously Bucky? You can’t figure out how to ask Steve out?” Clint raised an eyebrow, “How did you ask him to the bar last week?” 

“I texted him.”

“So? Just do that again.” Bucky shook his head. 

“I can’t. I was all awkward and weird.”

“Well it obviously worked,” Darcy interrupted, “he’s totally hooked, what are you so worried about?” Bucky fiddled with his coffee mug, shrugging and avoiding his friend’s eyes. 

“I don’t... “ he trailed off. Clint leaned forward, turning serious. 

“You getting all up in your head man? You can’t do that. Just text him and stop worrying about it.”

“Stop making excuses,” Darcy added, “you’re awesome, and bangable, and you shouldn’t worry about it. Steve is completely into you!”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, hating the way his insecurity crawled into his voice. 

“Oh dude totally,” Clint nodded, “he blushes like every time you glance at him, it is disgustingly adorable.” Darcy nodded. 

“He definitely wants to fuck.” Bucky groaned and covered his eyes. 

“Or you could just do that thing you always do when you meet someone. Flirt, start getting close, then freak out and make up a billion excuses until they eventually give up and go away.” Darcy sipped her coffee pointedly, “but that’s none of my business.” 

“I do not do that!” Bucky protested, and Darcy and Clint gave him identical looks, “What? I don’t!” Darcy rolled her eyes. 

“Sure. You didn’t do it when you met that cute goth girl at Temptations. Or when you were flirting with… oh, what was their name? That hot dancer from that queer club on 6th. Dammit, what was their name?”

“Vee.” Clint provided, and Darcy snapped her fingers.

“Right! Vee. Damn, they were hot.” She leaned her chin in her hands, sighing wistfully. 

“They were,” Clint agreed, mirroring Darcy’s pose. 

“You are dating my best friend.” Bucky gave Clint a look. 

“What?” his friend sat back defensively, “Nat thought Vee was hot too.” He grinned salaciously, and Bucky laughed. 

“Do I want to know?”

“You didn’t want to date them.” Clint said with a raised eyebrow. Bucky shook his head. 

“Whatever… You know, its not like I’m the only one who’s shitty at relationships! I mean, its not like Darcy has a great track record either.” 

“Bitch please. I have a baby and I get more ass than you.” Darcy pointed at Bucky, “and don’t think I don’t see you deflecting.” Bucky cleared his throat, spinning his coffee mug and avoiding Darcy’s eyes. 

“Give me banana?” Clint held out his hands, apparently having decided he was done with the conversation. Darcy passed over her daughter, who giggled and snuggled into Clint’s lap (Clint maintained that he was Kate’s favourite uncle – Bucky privately thought that Clint was probably right, though he would never tell him that). Clint picked up a crayon and began drawing with Katie while Bucky picked up and put down his phone, spinning it on the table. Darcy sipped her latte and eyed the way Bucky was playing with his phone. 

“Okay, you know what,” she finally said, putting down her mug and grabbing the phone out of Bucky’s hand. 

“Hey!” she deftly unlocked the phone, and Bucky blinked, “wait, how do you know my code?” She shot him a look before quickly typing something in, fending off Bucky’s attempts to grab the phone back with her other hand. 

“There,” she handed him back his phone, and Bucky quickly turned it around to see what she had done. 

**Today 3:20 pm**

Hey Steve, was wondering if you wanted to go out for drinks tomorrow night ;)

Before he had the chance to do anything more than gape at his phone and shoot a quick glare at Darcy his phone was buzzing in his hand. 

_I’d love to :)_

“Huh,” Bucky sat back in his chair, looking up from his phone to see Darcy smiling at him smugly. He pointed at her, “Don’t think this makes it okay. I’m still mad at you.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” She grinned wider, “I am awesome.” He shook his head as his phone buzzed again. 

_There’s a bar near my place called the Howling Commandos, if you didn’t have a place in mind?_

Bucky quickly typed back ‘yeah, sounds good, 8pm again?’. 

_see you then :)_

“Maybe you should always let Darcy control your love life,” Clint said without looking up. 

“Shut up Clint,” Bucky said, smiling down at his phone. 

\----------

The bar Steve had named wasn’t one Bucky had been to before, though he had heard about it. One of Darcy’s favourite stories to tell involved a night at that bar, a pair of guys named “Dum Dum” and Gabe, and a game of darts that ended in a trip to the emergency room. Toni had also mentioned going to the Howling Commandos with Bruce, though she refused to actually say what had happened the night she had gone there, saying that Pepper had advised her not to, while Bruce just shook his head and said that he had been banned from the premises for life. 

Given all the buildup, Bucky had to say, standing outside in the swirling snow, that he had been expecting something a bit… more, somehow. Instead, he found himself outside a small basement bar, the warm yellow light spilling out of the windows illuminating the snow and a worn old sign that was barely legible. The noise of the bar was audible from outside however, and a steady stream of smokers were going in and out from their huddle around the doorway. Squaring his shoulders, Bucky flicked the end of his cigarette into the snow and headed down the steps, squeezing through the crowd around the doorway and entering the loud, warm interior of the bar. As he was standing in the entryway, blinking and reorienting himself, he heard his name. Looking around, he caught sight of Steve perched on a barstool, waving and grinning. Pushing his way through the narrow bar, Bucky tugged off his hat and scarf as he went. 

“Hey,” he greeted, grinning at Steve as the smaller man pulled his coat off of the stool next to his where it had been saving a spot for Bucky. He looked the other man up and down as he pulled off his coat, happy to see that Steve was wearing much the same outfit that he was, though his shirt was an unfamiliar band shirt to Bucky’s green tee, and his jeans were worn and torn to Bucky’s nicest jeans. 

“Hey,” Steve returned as Bucky settled onto the stool, “how’s it going?” 

“Good, you?”

“Yeah, great. You found the place okay?” Bucky nodded. 

“Yeah. I’d actually heard quite a bit about this place before, though I’ve never actually been.” Bucky looked around, noting what might be charitably called a vintage interior, the bar top scratched and stained, and all the chairs mismatched. The clientele was as eclectic as the establishment’s decor, ranging from dyed and tattooed punks in their twenties to grizzled old bikers sporting copious flannel and beards. “Its an interesting place.” Steve laughed. 

“Thats why I like it. Always guaranteed to meet someone new and interesting each time I come here.” Bucky nodded.

“I believe it.” He glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye, “I don’t suppose you know some guys named Dum Dum and Gabe? Dum Dum wears a bowling hat and-” 

“Yeah I know them,” Steve interrupted, “they’re actually good friends with Jacques and Jim. How do you know them?”

“Oh I don’t,” Bucky confessed, “Darcy met them here one night. Played a very dangerous game of darts.” 

“Oh shit,” Steve threw his head back in a laugh, “your Darcy is the same one who embedded a dart in Dum Dum’s forehead?” Bucky blinked slowly.

“Wow that is so not how she tells that story.” Steve leaned his elbow on the bartop.

“Yeah? How does she tell it?” 

“Well it involves a lot less culpability on her part.” Bucky said with a grin, and Steve laughed.

“Well there’s just as good a chance that Dum Dum is lying, so who knows how it really went down.” Bucky chuckled, signalling the bartender for a beer as he passed by. 

“It seems like we both have some insane friends.” 

“Seems like.” 

“Do _you_ have any good stories from this place then?” Steve leaned in, grinning as the bartender deposited a beer by Bucky’s elbow.

“Boy, do I ever. I’ve been coming in here since I was a kid actually.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know if you can tell, but this place isn’t exactly too concerned with appearances, or legality.” Bucky laughed.

“Yeah, I get that impression.” Steve shook his head, grinning. 

“My mom used to work here before she died, I spent a lot of time hanging out in the back and behind the bar growing up.”

“I thought your mum was a nurse?” Steve nodded.

“Yeah, she was. She worked at the Central Islip Psychiatric Centre, but it closed in ‘96 and she couldn’t get a job at another hospital. Falsworth, the guy who owns the place, offered her a part time job until she could find a different job, but she just never left. After she died, I kept coming here. It always reminds me of her.” Bucky smiled at him fondly while Steve grinned into the distance, remembering. 

“She used to keep a baseball bat behind the bar, and if anyone got out of hand or did something she didn’t like, it was common knowledge that Sarah Rogers wouldn’t hesitate to beat your ass right out the door.” Bucky laughed.

“She sounds like a spitfire. I see where you get it from.” Steve grinned, leaning forward and nudging his shoulder against Bucky’s.

“Everyone who ever met her said exactly that – that all of a sudden, they understood everything about me.” Steve sat up, “Do you remember that story Sam told at the bar last week? About me in high school?”

“The one about you ripping your teacher a new one? Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, lets just say that wasn’t the first time I collided with a teacher-”

“I’m shocked,” Bucky interrupted dryly, and Steve ignored him.

“-like, when I was in elementary school I got in a ton of trouble for going after a group of kids who were making fun of this Onondaga kid in my class for his long hair. They tried to hold him down and cut his hair, and I went after them fists flying.” Bucky grinned at the picture of tiny(er) Steve, full of righteous indignation, going after a group of elementary school bullies. 

“My teacher called in my mum to have a talk about my behaviour, and the fact that I kept getting in fights instead of ‘using my words’.” Steve grinned in memory, “She told the teacher that the next time she made her give up a shift, it better be for something important, and that if she would make sure the students in her class weren’t behaving like little fuckwits, maybe I wouldn’t have to.” Bucky laughed. 

“I wish I could have met her. She sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly with a small smile, “I wish you could have too, she’d have liked you.” Bucky smiled.

“I think it would have been an honour to be liked by Sarah Rogers,” Steve cleared his throat and blushing slightly. 

“So how was work today?” he asked, changing the subject and glancing over at Bucky as Bucky shrugged. 

“Pretty good. Toni was using us all as guinea pigs for her newest creations, so I ate my body weight in sugar and cream.” Steve laughed. 

“Sounds pretty nice,” he commented, and Bucky wrinkled his nose.

“The first couple of times maybe. At this point I kind of want to puke every time she shows up with some new creation. Plus Toni tends to get the occasional insane idea, like canelés with hot pepper flakes and chocolate.” Steve made a considering face. 

“That sounds like it might be good.” Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Sure, if you were warned beforehand, and if Toni hadn’t decided to double the peppers in half the canelés ‘because it might be good’.” Steve winced. 

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Bucky wrinkled his nose, “Clint had to make a run to the grocery store for more milk since me, him, and Darce drank all of it.” Steve laughed. “Nat and Bruce weren’t bothered,” Bucky continued, “but Bruce spent a lot of his youth travelling around Asia – army brat – so he’s used to a lot of spice in his food.”

“And Natasha?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head.

“She’s inhumanly impervious to harm.” Steve laughed.

“Peggy’s the same way,” he confessed. 

“We should make sure they never become friends,” Bucky said, pointing at Steve with his beer bottle.

“Agreed,” Steve clinked his bottle against Bucky’s, “they would be a very dangerous combination.” Both men shuddered in mock fear (and maybe a little bit of real fear too). 

“Steve!” A older man with a mustache and British accent appeared in front of the two men on the other side of the bar. 

“Falsworth!” Steve reached across the bar, slapping his hand against the other mans as he leaned onto the bar, “this is Bucky.” He gestured at Bucky, who reached over and shook the other man’s hand. “Falsworth owns the bar.”

“Oh, right! Nice to meet you.”

“You as well Bucky.” Falsworth turned to Steve, “is this…?” He trailed off as Steve began shaking his head, glaring at the other man. Falsworth raised an eyebrow, then turned back to Bucky. “Well, a friend of Steve is a friend of mine. Let me get you boys another drink.” He straightened and headed off down the bar. Bucky turned back to Steve, but before he had the chance to say anything, a hand was being clasped heavily on Steve’s shoulder, and a growling voice was greeting him. 

“I thought I heard your voice!”

“Phillips,” Steve greeted with a smile, “oh, this is Bucky.” Bucky waved as the grizzled older man smiled at him. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your date, just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello,” Steve replied with a cheeky grin, and Phillips smacked the side of his head.

“Watch it boy. The wife’s been asking for you, you best come over for coffee soon.” He pointed at Steve, who nodded.

“Got it,” The older man smiled at him and nodded at Bucky before wandering back into the crowd. 

“Wow,” Bucky said, turning back to Steve, “you really do spend a lot of time here don’t you?” Steve laughed.

“A lot of the older regulars have been coming here longer than I have.”

“And the younger regulars?”

“Yeah, I know a lot of them too,” Steve replied with a grin as Falsworth stopped by to deposit two more beers in front of them. 

\----------

By the time Steve and Bucky had emptied quite a few more glasses Steve was leaning heavily on Bucky’s shoulder, their heads close together as they traded stories and histories. 

“And then,” Steve said with a heavy snort, “then Sam walked in.” Bucky burst out laughing. 

“Jesus, and you were just standing there-”

“Covered in whipped cream. And Peggy just looks at him, raises an eyebrow and goes ‘what, like this is the worst thing you’ve ever walked in on us doing’.”

“Meu Deus, that is amazing,” Bucky gasped out, grinning at Steve and leaning closer. The laughter trailed off as the two men continued to look at each other. Bucky felt warm fingers pressing against his, and looked down to see Steve twining his fingers with his. He looked back up to see Steve smiling softly at him. He smiled in return, before his eyes were drawn to Steve’s lips as he licked them. He could feel himself beginning to lean forwards and-

“Fucking faggots,” Bucky sat up sharply, seeing Steve doing the same out of the corner of his eye as he looked around the room. Two men with shaved heads were standing nearby, glaring at the pair. 

“The fuck did you just say?” Bucky looked back over at Steve, startled, not having heard that much anger in the smaller man’s voice since the night at the 78th precinct. Steve had stood up, fists clenched at his side in anger. 

“I said,” the taller of the two men said, stepping forward and enunciating his words slowly, “Fucking. Faggots.”

“Yeah, thats what I thought,” Steve replied, before stepping forward and swinging his fist, smashing it into the taller man’s stomach, causing him to double over, coughing. His friend stepped forward with an angry shout, but before Bucky had the chance to do anything more than get to his feet someone else was surging forwards, shoving back the second man. Bucky caught a glimpse of a blond woman shouting at the second man and continuing to shove at him before the first man recovered and returned Steve’s hit, cracking the smaller man hard across the cheekbone. Before he even realized what he was doing, Bucky felt a growl ripping out of his throat as he surged forward, landing a hit to the other man’s esophagus, following up with a hit to his temple, dropping him even as he reached up to claw at his throat, gasping. Steve was already trying to get over to the second man, but Bucky grabbed his arm in an iron grip, pulling Steve back. Despite Steve’s protestations, which Bucky could barely hear over the growing din of what was shaping up to be a pretty impressive bar fight, Bucky managed to get them both outside, only realizing once they were shivering in the snow on the street that their coats had been left behind them. Finally letting go of Steve’s arm, Bucky watched, shivering, as the smaller man spit out blood into the snow. 

“Fuck!” He leaned over his knees, breathing heavily.

“You okay?” Bucky asked as he caught his own breath. 

“Yeah, caught a stray elbow on the way out.” Steve shook his head as he straightened, heading back over to Bucky. 

“C’mon,” Bucky said, clasping Steve’s shoulder, “there’s an all-night diner round the corner.”

“Our coats…” Steve said half-heartedly as they headed down the street. Bucky grinned at him.

“Do you really want to try going back in there?” Steve snorted, then winced.

“No, probably not a great idea. Falsworth will probably grab them for us anyways.” They continued along in silence until they reached the warm glow of the diner Bucky had noticed on his way over to the bar, heading inside to the sound of the door’s chime. Settling down at the booth, Bucky signaled the waitress for coffee.

“Will Falsworth be upset?” Bucky asked as two mugs were deposited in front of them, both men shaking their heads no to the waitresses offer of menus. 

“Nah,” Steve gave a wry grin, “he’s used to me causing trouble.”

“You do seem to be very good at it,” Bucky said with an answering grin. Steve looked down, fiddling with his mug.

“Are you… I mean, I know I’m not… I have a bit of a temper,” he finally finished, looking up at Bucky from under his eyelashes. Bucky cocked his head to the side, carefully choosing his words. 

“I’ve had more than enough violence in my life,” he said finally, continuing quickly as he saw Steve flinch slightly, “but you’re not a violent person, Steve.” Steve looked up at that, raising his eyebrow skeptically. 

“I mean, violence seems to follow you wherever you go,” he clarified with a grin, “but you don’t attack people for no reason. If your biggest flaw is being too passionate about protecting other people and standing up to bullies, and being a bit too quick to react with violence, well,” Bucky shrugged, “I think I can live with that.” The grin that Steve gave him in return was blinding, and an answering warmth blossomed in Bucky’s chest. 

“Okay,” Steve said softly, reaching across the table to pull Bucky’s fingers away from his mug, twining them with his own once again, “works for me.”

\----------

The 1890s brownstone that the cab dropped them in front appeared almost magical in the snow that was swirling gently around them, despite its slightly run-down exterior. The two men pushed their way through the snow that had piled up during the night, pausing by the door while Steve fumbled with his keys before making their way through the doorway. The brownstone, originally a single home, had been split into a multiple tenancy, and Steve led them up the stairs to a second door. Inside, they kicked off their boots, moving quietly through the living room, Bucky catching a brief glimpse of a cluttered and warmly decorated space before entering Steve’s room. The smaller man shut the door behind them, sighing as he rubbed his arms. Still trying to be quiet, Bucky looked around the room, padding softly across the floor to get a better look at the art covering the small space.

“You don’t have to be quiet anymore,” Steve’s voice breaking the silence caused Bucky to jump, and he turned to glare at Steve, who gave him an unrepentant smile in return. “Sound carries weird in old buildings like this one,” he explained, “you can hear everything from the living room really loudly in Sam’s room, but nothing from my room.” 

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement as he turned back to the walls. Unlike the drawings covering the walls of Steve’s workspace, the pictures covering the walls of Steve’s room were done in a massive variety of mediums, including paint and charcoal, and were mixed in with posters, prints, photographs, and other people’s art (he thought he recognized the style of one drawing as belonging to Peggy). In the few bare spaces between tacked up paper, Bucky could see drawings in sharpie done directly on the wall. 

“How long have you been living here?” he asked as he moved around the room, examining the cluttered bookshelf and desk covered in art supplies, running his fingers across the spines of the books without stopping to read any of them. 

“Five years?” Steve replied, “give or take.” He moved over to the bed, sitting down. Finishing his walk around the room, Bucky settled on the bed next to Steve. 

“And how long-”

“Are you stalling?” Steve interrupted, and Bucky looked over at him, startled. Steve gave him a crooked grin. “If you don’t want… I mean-”

“No, no,” Bucky interrupted hastily, “its just…” he sighed heavily. “Its been a very long time since I… dated anyone.” Steve nudged his shoulder companionably, giving him a small smile, wordlessly encouraging Bucky to keep talking. Bucky sighed heavily. 

“Ever since I got back, since I lost my arm… I haven't been very good at… letting people get close.”

“Hey,” Steve nudged him again, voice soft, “No pressure.” Bucky gave him a crooked smile. 

“I want to, just… you might need to be a bit patient?” Steve grinned, leaning forwards.

“I can do that.” Glancing up and meeting Bucky’s eyes, he continued to lean towards him. Swallowing, Bucky allowed his eyes to fall shut, leaning in until he met the soft press of Steve’s lips. The kiss was soft and sweet, and Bucky allowed everything else fade into the background as his entire world narrowed to the feel of Steve’s lips against his. He didn’t realize he’d raised his hand until he felt the soft sweep of Steve’s hair sliding through his fingers. One of Steve’s hands slid across his jaw to grip the back of his neck while the other mirrored Bucky’s, sliding into his hair and pulling several strands free of his pony as Steve moved forward to deepen the kiss. Bucky’s mouth opened easily under the press of Steve’s, and he lost track of time for a long moment before Steve slowly pulled back. He didn’t go far, however, staying close enough that Bucky felt the movement of his lips against his own as he smiled. 

“Okay?” he asked quietly, the word gusting across Bucky’s lips. 

“Okay,” Bucky replied, finally opening his eyes to see Steve looking at him, eyes brilliantly blue and so close. 

Glancing down at Steve’s lips then back up, Bucky moved first this time, the kiss turning far more heated than before as the men tightened their grips on each other, moving closer together. Steve’s hand left the back of Bucky’s neck, skittering down Bucky’s side then back up. Pulling back and sucking in a breath, Steve pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. Reaching out, Bucky ran his hand up Steve’s side, marvelling at the heat of the other man’s body and the array of new tattoos now being revealed to him before pulling him back to him, kissing up the side of his neck. Steve’s fingers plucked at the bottom of Bucky’s shirt. 

“May I?” he gasped out, and Bucky pulled back from where he’d been nibbling on the edge of Steve’s jaw. He fidgeted, uncomfortable, and Steve immediately backed off. 

“Hey, no worries-”

“No,” Bucky interrupted, shaking his head, “no” he repeated, sounding more confident. He trusted Steve, so, pulling back from him, Bucky took a deep breath, grabbing the bottom of his shirt. Pausing one more time, he pulled his shirt over his head. Steve’s eyes immediately flicked to the remnants of Bucky’s arm, helplessly drawn, and Bucky shifted under the scrutiny, hand rising to cover the worse of the scarring on instinct, though he aborted the motion halfway through when Steve’s eyes quickly moved away, working across Bucky’s torso and down his abs. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, “you are so goddamn beautiful.” Bucky shifted shyly, feeling a blush crawl up his torso before Steve slid up to him again, arms wrapping around Bucky’s bare back while he kissed him again. Bucky flinched slightly when Steve’s hand brushed against his left shoulder, but before Steve could pull back more than an inch Bucky surged forward, pulling him back in. 

Time dissolved as they kissed. They ended up with Steve braced over Bucky laying across the bed, trading lazy kisses. Pulling back, Steve’s eyes flicked across Bucky’s face, a soft smile curving his lips.

“Still okay?” He whispered. Bucky moved his arm behind his head, propping himself up slightly as he returned Steve’s smile. 

“Still okay.” Lowering himself onto the bed next to Bucky, Steve wrapped his arm around the other man, sighing contentedly as he molded himself to Bucky’s side. Turning his head, Bucky pressed a kiss to the side of Steve’s head, smiling into the other man’s hair. 

\----------

The morning sunlight woke Bucky, who blinked slowly awake. He had a moment of half-panicked disorientation before he heard a soft moan behind him, and felt a warm body shift against his back. _Steve_. Smiling and rolling over, he watched as Steve frowned in his sleep, snuggling further into the blankets. His hair was sticking up in a vibrant pink halo around his head, the early morning light highlighting his jaw and the line of his nose. He half cracked an eye, looking up at Bucky. 

“Good morning,” Bucky said softly, smiling wider when Steve just groaned in reply. “Not a morning person then.” 

“Ugh. What time is it?” Bucky looked over his shoulder to the clock on the nightstand. 

“Eleven.”

“Oh.” Steve cracked open both his eyes, “not that early then.” Bucky laughed quietly. 

“No, not really.” Steve rolled onto his back, stretching before scratching sleepily at his stomach and looking over at Bucky. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Sounds good.” Bucky smiled, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek. The other man climbed over him, grabbing a shirt off the floor, pulling it on. Both men had lost their pants some time during the night, but Steve didn’t bother pulling on a pair, instead turning back and smiling at Bucky sprawled in his bed. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Steve said before heading out, shutting the door behind him. Bucky stretched lazily, enjoying the feeling of sleepy contentment filling every bone in his body for a couple moments longer. When the faint smell of cooking bacon reached him, he finally swung himself out of the bed, grabbing a shirt from the floor and pulling his crumpled pack of smokes out of his jeans. Opening the door, he followed the sounds of cooking until he reached a large, brightly lit kitchen and dining room, stopping when he saw two other men were in the room as well as Steve. 

“Hope you like bacon and eggs,” Steve said, shooting a smile at Bucky over his shoulder. 

“I do,” Bucky said, heading into the room as the two men turned and he identified one as Sam. He settled onto the barstool next to Sam, and the man next to him leaned across the counter, offering Bucky his hand. 

“Riley,” he introduced, “Sam’s boyfriend.” 

“Bucky,” he replied, “nice to meet you.” 

“You too.” 

“We were just going, actually,” Sam said, grinning and winking over at Steve, before he and Riley stood and headed out of the kitchen. Steve waved goodbye to them, while Bucky called out ‘good to see you’. 

“Coffee?” Steve asked even as he placed a mug in front of Bucky, and he smiled gratefully, inhaling the delicious scent before beginning to sip slowly at the steaming liquid. 

“Is there somewhere I can…?” Bucky held up the pack of cigarettes and Steve nodded towards the window. 

“You can just sit in the window if that works for you?” 

“You sure?” Bucky asked, “I can go outside-”

“Nah,” Steve interrupted with a grin, “its fine. Seriously,” he assured when Bucky still hesitated. Bringing his mug with him, Bucky pushed up the window, perching himself on the ledge and setting his mug next to him as he lit a smoke. 

“How do you like your eggs?” Steve asked as he pulled the last couple pieces of bacon from the frying pan. Bucky shrugged. 

“However you’re making them.”

“Over easy it is!” Steve shot a cheeky smile over his shoulder before turning back to the frying pan and cracking eggs. A comfortable silence filled the room as Bucky smoked and Steve cooked, before Steve finally placed two plates on the counter, announcing that the food was ready. Closing the window, Bucky brought his mug back over, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite. 

“What is this?” he asked, looking at the bacon and wrinkling his nose. 

“Veggie bacon,” Steve replied cheerfully and Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What?” Steve asked, “I’m a vegetarian.”

“Huh,” Bucky replied, taking another bite and shrugging his shoulders. 

Steve was as sweet and funny over breakfast as he had been the day before. Bucky could feel the half-held fears at the back of his head that Steve would want nothing to do with him now that he’d seen the extent of his injuries fading under the force of Steve’s smile. After breakfast Bucky got dressed but still found himself lingering, despite having no real excuse for sticking around Steve’s. He was pretty sure it was a bit weird to hang out with your date the entire next day after a date, even if that was what you really wanted to do (he didn’t think it’d been that long since he’d last dated that things would have changed that much) but it was still nearly three before he found himself heading out of the brownstone. 

“So,” Bucky said, leaning against Steve’s doorway and smiling down at the other man. 

“So,” Steve said in reply, grinning up at Bucky. 

“See you again soon?” 

“Absolutely,” he smiled, leaning forward to press a final soft kiss against Steve’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> The blonde in the bar was a cameo by Peggy’s friend, Lorraine. 
> 
> There is literally no way a person would ever think veggie bacon was regular bacon, in sight or smell. Whoops. 
> 
> Portuguese  
> puta - whore  
> Meu Deus - oh my god
> 
> Food  
> canelé - a small French pastry with a soft and tender custard center and a dark, thick caramelized crust


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [slidingkinsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slidingkinsey) for her excellent beta work.

The warmth of the summer sunlight filtering through the trees warmed Bucky as he stood in Jane and Thor’s small backyard. Sam had set up speakers in the back corner of the yard, with the vow to “educate all your white asses”, and was currently enthusiastically discussing early ‘90s rap with Darcy, who had Kate propped on her hip as she chatted. The noise of their party was competing with the sounds coming from the various backyard parties happening in the neighborhood, but their group was holding their own, helped by Thor’s booming laugh and the fairly epic argument Clint and Peggy were currently having over the game of lawn darts. Bucky was nervously eyeing them from his spot leaning against the back wall of the house, thinking that whoever had set out the lawn darts game hadn’t taken into account how freely the drinks would be flowing over the course of the afternoon. 

“That’s going to end in tears and a trip to the hospital,” Steve observed as he appeared next to Bucky. Snorting, Bucky glanced down at the other man, who held out one of the two beers he was holding. Taking the beer, Bucky turned back to the party just in time to see Clint toss his dart, narrowly missing Dernier, who began swearing at him in French. Not missing a beat, Clint began yelling back at him in Portuguese while Peggy doubled over in laughter. 

“Should we stop them?” Bucky asked dryly. 

“Nah,” Steve replied, smiling and leaning against Bucky, “this is way too entertaining.” 

“Hey losers,” Natasha said as she took a spot on Bucky’s other side, “what are you looking at?” 

“Your boyfriend being an absolute failure,” Steve leaned across Bucky to grin at Natasha. 

“Huh,” she replied, eyebrows raising behind her oversized sunglasses, “so business as usual then?” Bucky laughed, glancing at the glass in her hand. 

“Water?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Natasha grinned back at him, taking a slow sip before replying. 

“Yes. Water,” she said dryly, and Steve and Bucky both laughed. “Anyways,” she said, reaching into her pants pocket and pulling out a envelope, “Happy Birthday Steve.” 

“Oh!” Steve said, taking the gift, “you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” she grinned, “but I really wanted to.” Tearing open the envelope, Steve pulled out a card. 

“Happy birthday you adorable fuckface. Treat you and your boy to some new sextoys,” Steve read out, and Bucky choked on his beer. 

“Jesus Nat,” Bucky coughed, and Natasha shrugged, unrepentant. 

“Hey, you’ve gotten so much nicer since you’ve started getting laid. It needs to be encouraged,” she winked, laughing, and started to walk away as Bucky aimed a half-hearted kick at her ass. 

“Well that was very nice of her,” Steve said with a wry grin as Bucky groaned. 

“Our friends are the worst,” he leaned his head back, tapping it against the wall. 

“Our friends are great,” Steve grinned, nudging his shoulder against Bucky, “you love-” Before Steve could finish his sentence, however, Toni appeared in front of them, shouting ‘ **Jello shots for the birthday boy!** ’, and shoving a couple of shot glasses at Steve before disappearing back towards the barbeque. “Okay,” he conceded, watching her go with a bemused smile, “maybe they’re a little bit odd.” He looked down at the shots, which were, in typical Toni fashion, layered red, white, and blue, shrugged, and then swallowed them down before standing away from the wall, “Should we go get some food and talk to people?” Bucky sighed exaggeratedly, pushing himself off the wall.

“I _suppose_ ,” he said with a grin, following after Steve. The barbeque had been set up next to the speakers, right next to the table piled high with chips and sides. Thor was manning the grill, with lots of (unwelcome) input from a very enthusiastic Peter, while Bruce and Yadriel stood by silently observing. Becca, Jane, Nat, and Pepper had taken up court in the set of lawn chairs, spread out on the other side of the table, heckling the men while chatting and taking turns holding Andréa while the baby giggled happily at all the attention she was getting. 

The two men came to a halt by the table, where Steve was immediately grabbed by Darcy, who claimed she needed someone neutral to mediate an argument between her and Sam over the relative importance of Kanye West. Bucky smiled fondly over at the three of them, watching as Steve listened seriously to both sides of the argument. He still couldn’t believe how well things were going between him and the other man. Steve had told Bucky he loved him a couple weeks ago, and though Bucky hadn’t been able to say it back yet, he knew that Steve understood that Bucky felt the same. 

Surrounded by his friends and family, and warmed by the late afternoon sunlight, Bucky thought for the first time in years that he could be happy, really happy, for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who subscribed, commented, and left kudos. I love hearing from all of you, and I hope you enjoyed the ending of what is officially the longest fic I've ever written :)
> 
> As always, feel free to join me over on [tumblr](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/) for more adventures.


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